


30 Days of Headcanon

by AllonsyMiddleEarth



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 38,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllonsyMiddleEarth/pseuds/AllonsyMiddleEarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Days of Headcanon challenge! A collection of short fics about a cast of my favorite Tolkien characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Radagast

**Something about a very minor character:**  
Is Radagast  _very_ minor? Cause I’m going with yes.

  
 _“There is no hint of an explanation of why Yavanna’s evident desire that the Istari should include in their number one with particular love of the things of her making could only be achieved by imposing Radagast’s company on Saruman; while the suggestion in the essay on the Istari (p.407) that in becoming enamoured of the wild creatures of Middle-earth Radagast neglected the purpose for which he was sent if perhaps not perfectly in accord with the idea of his being specially chosen by Yavanna._ ”

I just keep wondering why Yavanna sent Radagast. I mean, okay she sent  _someone,_ but why him? Did she really not have any more powerful Maiar at her command? I mean Melian was pretty powerful (super, super powerful in her Elven form, but that’s different,) and she only served Vana and Estë, who were less powerful than Yavanna, you would think Yavanna could have had more wise Maiar than Radagast to send?   
  
It’s generally accepted from canon that Radagast failed in his mission. I don’t think his mission was to stop Sauron, though. Yavanna could have brought up sending Radagast at the Valar counsel, if that were the case, but instead she just sent him later.   
  
He doesn’t do much in the way of actually stopping Sauron. He aids the other wizards some, especially Gandalf, but on his own he doesn’t do much unless he seems to accidentally gather information that he passes on to someone else. So either he really did suck at his mission to thwart Sauron, or Yavanna didn’t want him to do that at all.  
  
I think all she wanted was for her trees and animals to have protection against Sauron. She wasn’t as concerned as Aulë and Manwë about actually  _stopping_ Sauron. She just- like in the beginning of the Silmarillion with Melkor- was upset that Sauron was messing with her work. Back with Melkor, in the beginning, she would go and heal the hurts that he caused to her works, but she wasn’t really allowed to this time. So when Maiar were being sent, she would likely have been thrilled at the opportunity to send one to do that work for her, no? This could also explain why he settles near Mirkwood, where Sauron’s influence is spreading and taking over forests- full of Yavanna’s creations, right?  
  
So she sends Radagast instructing him to keep her things as safe as he could. Maybe, like Manwë, she picked a Maia that she knew was not going to be tempted by power or be foolish in their ways of stopping Sauron. As Manwë chose Gandalf because Gandalf feared Sauron, which Manwë said was all the more reason he should go, and Yavanna picked Radagast. Powerful enough to protect her creations, naive enough to not challenge or get in the way of the other Maiar there. And if he wasn’t ambitious or especially wise, he was probably very loyal to her because he loved the same things she did.  
  
Anyway, I just think Radagast as a Maia of Yavanna is a very interesting character. He doesn’t get enough attention; he’s just seen as crazy and less wise than the other Wizards, when he probably could have a really interesting background.

  
____________________________________________________________________

Radagast jumped, upsetting the birds about his hat and the mice under his feet, at a knock on his door. A knock? Here?   
  
He was expecting a visit from Beorn soon, but Beorn did not knock. More likely he’d hear rabbits and deer running to tell them of a bear hunting in his part of the forest, and he would have to go track down Beorn himself.   
  
 _The White! Saruman, Saruman the White!_ The mice squeaked as they ran for cover, and Radagast jumped back again with a slight gasp, before hurriedly opening the door.  
  
“Saruman, it has been too long.” Radagast bowed a little too low and then had to grab his hat when it flipped off his head and the birds that had been in it flew off. “Sorry, sorry. Do come in?”   
  
“I would prefer not to.” The White Wizard did not even attempt to be polite, giving Radagast’s hut a disdainful glance and turning up his nose. “If you would join me out here I feel we could talk better.”   
  
“Certainly, certainly.” Radagast jumped out and closed the door behind him, one brave bird landing on his shoulder for moral support. “Do sit.” He told Saruman, offering a place beside him as he sat on a log he used as a bench, and Saruman ignored him.   
  
“I have much to discuss with you.” He started. “Firstly, I wish you would stay away from the Gladden Fields yourself. I wished for your spies to let me know what they found there, and now that that has been done, you have no reason to be there.”   
  
“Certainly, certainly.” Radagast assured him, knowing full well that this would only increase his curiosity. Perhaps he should send out some foxes to discover why Saruman might be insisting he stay away…  
  
“And this, as I have asked you before and you have not told me. As the head of your order, I demand you tell me why Yavanna begged me to take you with me in the first place! What is your mission in Middle-earth?”   
  
“Who are you to demand something from me when Yavanna herself told me not to reveal it?” Radagast drew himself up to full height, something he rarely did, especially in the presence of Saruman.   
  
The White Wizard growled, but Radagast’s crow on his shoulder squawked at him and silenced Saruman’s retort.   
  
“I only wish to know. It may be important. Besides,” He added threateningly. “Yavanna isn’t here.”   
  
Radagast gulped. True, Yavanna was far away. He could only imagine her irritation if Radagast showed up back in Valinor having to admit that Aulë’s servant had killed him before he could accomplish his tasks. But Saruman wouldn’t kill him, right? Surely Saruman meant him no harm, however threatening he appeared.  
  
“It is not of importance. Yavanna told you herself that it does not interfere with your doings, did she not? Otherwise, Aulë would not have consented.”   
  
“Did Aulë consent? I never heard.” Saruman said, his eyes angry.   
  
“Manwë, then. Yavanna would not have gone against him, do you think?”   
  
“Do not distract me from my question, Radagast. I am waiting for an answer.”   
  
“Would you tell me of your mission? I can not say anything more than you already know.” Radagast dared to say defiantly.   
  
“Radagast the Brown!” Saruman drew himself up taller, the sky around him darkening and a cold wind whirling around them. Radagast grabbed his hat with both hands and cowered away. “We were once friends, tell me, old friend, what is your task?”   
  
Were they? Were they friends? They hadn’t been, but at Saruman’s words it seemed almost as though they had, and Radagast wondered. Perhaps it would not hurt to say…  
  
Yavanna’s words came back to him then. She had come to find him where he dwelt in the Pastures of Yavanna, and she had asked him to go to Middle-earth for a time. At first he had refused, begged her leave to stay where he was and serve her there, but the pictures she painted of trees and animals over the sea had convinced him and he had consented in the end. Though she likely would have sent him even if he had not.  _Do not tell anyone of your mission, unless it must be Olórin, though I doubt he will ask. Your task is simply to heal the hurts to my creations that Sauron causes, be a friend to animals and plants alike, and keep them as safe as you can. Can you do this?_ Radagast had promised her he would do his best, as he loved her works nearly as much as she did herself. However, she would never answer him when he asked her why she had chosen him out of all her Maiar, and he had no ideas himself as to why.   
  
No, it would hurt to say. Saruman was not Gandalf, and Yavanna clearly had not wanted him to know.   
  
“I can not say- I will not say.” Radagast told his “friend” finally.   
  
“Then, Radagast, I have no choice but to not support you! I hope you have chosen your friends well!”   
  
Radagast looked around at the animals all around his hut hiding from Saruman but staying close to his side, the rabbits under the porch, the birds in the rafters, the gophers peeking up from their holes. Indeed, he thought, he had.


	2. Elrond

**Something about a character you are hopelessly in love with  
** Elrond.

I’m hopelessly in love with Elrond which is always a painful experience because wHY IS HIS LIFE SO TRAGIC.

I’m mad at Eärendil and Elwing for not being better parents, I feel like Elrond’s got some pent up anger.

(Though I did kind of forgive them recently because I realized that to Elwing it probably looked just like what happened to her own twin brothers, and she was thinking that Elrond and Elros were missing and that they could search ages and not find them, and all that would be accomplished would be that the Sons of Fëanor would find Eärendil and Elwing and try to take the Silmaril again and again. She’d spent so long wondering for news of her brothers, she probably had just lost hope that she would even be able to find a dead Elrond and Elros and get closure. They probably regretted it forever, but I imagine that in her grief, it made sense to Elwing at the time not to go back.)

Okay so a lot of people write that Eärendil can’t come down from Vingilot and sails all the time, but I don’t know where it specifically says that in canon? Maybe it does and I missed it or haven’t read it in HoME yet. My logic is that Eärendil’s star in our sky is supposed to be Venus, and there are a few months a year and possibly days in between, depending on things, where Venus isn’t visible from anywhere on earth, so I think that means Eärendil can have a bit of time off to met his son.

Elrond meets Eärendil and Elwing shortly after arriving in Valinor. Celebrían has known them for a while now since they, along with Finarfin, Eärwen, and Finrod, (and Melian,) helped Celebrían when she first arrived.

______________________________________________________

The air on the terrace where Elrond and Celebrían sat in elegantly made chairs and waited for Eärendil and Elwing was perfectly climate, as everywhere in Valinor tended to be, yet Elrond was still sweating slightly and shivering nervously. Celebrían took his hand and squeezed it, but she knew it would be worthless to tell her husband not to worry; all she could do was remind him that he was not alone, not any longer.

It was strange and nice for him for their roles to be reversed now from the last time they were together, when she had been broken and he had been holding her together. Now Elrond was the one who years laid heavily on, and Celebrían was his strength.

When the two elves did appear, Elrond stood up quickly and would have sent the chair he had been sitting in over backwards, had Celebrían not caught it.

“Elrond.” Eärendil said, his voice full of emotion.

“That’s it, ‘Elrond?’” Fleetingly ran through Elrond’s mind, despite his father’s tone. All these years and the best that can be said from that greeting is that at least you know I am not Elros?

Hesitantly Elwing moved forward to embrace him, and Elrond put his arms around her awkwardly. He had expected that he might feel a natural connection to his parents when he met them, like he had with his own children, but there was nothing. They could have been two strangers to him for all he felt; and by most definitions, they were.

“You look just as I remember you.” He said to them as he moved to hug his father, mostly just in an attempt to be polite and say something, and they both beamed.  
It was true, he did vaguely remember them from his childhood and obviously they had not changed.

No one seemed to know what to say next, so Celebrían suggested that they sit, and a servant came to bring them bread and fruit.

They kept up chatter for an hour or so; most of it falling to Celebrían, about how Elrond was settling in and how the twins and Arwen were.

“I can not wait to meet them.” Elwing said earnestly, of the twins. “I hear they are so like you and Elros.”

So like us? How would you know, you were never around for what we were like! Elrond thought, and he felt Celebrían take his hand under the table.

“They are.” He said, flatly.

“We do regret missing to know Elros…” Elwing faltered when she saw Elrond tense at her words.

“So did he.” Elrond said angrily and stood, pulling his hand from Celebrían’s and facing away from the table, ignoring when they all rose behind him. He rarely got angry or showed his anger and he certainly had not planned to burst out now, but he couldn’t help it.

“Elrond…” Eärendil took a step towards him, but was afraid to go any closer.

“We know we made mistakes.” Elwing said softly. “We regret them every moment, and I do not expect you to forgive us. It wasn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter what it was or was not! I would not ever have left my sons, not if there was a sliver of hope, and you knew there was more than that! Even if we were dead, how could you do nothing?” Elrond felt all the emotions of the past centuries, and the ones on Elros’ behalf, choking him now. “You wonder why you never got to know Elros? You never tried! He didn’t see it as leaving a family that had already abandoned him!”

“If we had known, we would never have left you with those sons of Fëanor-“

“At least Maglor and Maedhros were there the whole time we were with them!” Elrond shot back angrily at his father, ignoring the hurt on his face. “They were the ones who were there for everything! They taught us to write and read, they taught us to ride and to fight, and they were the ones who were there when we had nightmares! They taught us of history, of culture. Was the Silmaril more important than that, than us? Maglor and Maedhros taught us a lot more about family than we ever learned from either of you!”

A thin silence fell abruptly at his words, like the air itself would explode and shatter if anyone broke it. Even Celebrían couldn’t think of anything to say now.

“Elrond, if you were to walk out of here now and never speak to us, we would not wonder, nor would we blame you.” Eärendil spoke softly, at length. “But I am, truly, sorry. If you can perhaps one day forgive us, we will always still be here.”

Elrond turned to him and nodded, once, not trusting his voice. After a few moments’ silence Celebrían led him back to the table and they sat, and Eärendil and Elwing followed their example, relieved.

No one spoke for a good while. Elrond could tell his parents both felt guilty, but he did not know what to say, or if he wished to say anything. Perhaps one day he would apologize for his outburst, but it would not be today.

He knew it was not their fault; there was no choice. He knew he wanted to get to know them and to finally have parents, but it was hard, too.

“Sometime will you tell us of Elros? Of, ” Elwing paused there and glanced at her husband. “Maglor and Maedhros?”

“I would like that.” Elrond smiled truly, and felt Celebrían next to him breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Good.” Eärendil smiled, too. “We have plenty of time, here.”


	3. Elrond

### Something about a character who inspires you to be a better person:  
Elrond

  
So much happened to Elrond, ugh, and he still manages to be “kind as summer,” and enjoy life with his family, even though he lost so many, aka basically everyone in his early life and no I’m not crying.  
Even in the Third Age, non-move Elrond anyway, is serious but also merry like the rest of the elves in his House. I feel like Elrond has bouts of lonely-depression-like periods after Celebrían sails, but I think he never, ever lets them affect his children or his people in any way. And when he can be, he is always as joyful as possible.  
  
(Note: I have a headcanon that Elladan and Elrohir were their mother names, not their father names. Or at least definitely Elladan, and it means  _Elf-man,_ which is representative of his strong ties to both sides of his heritage. So I think Celebrían named him Elladan, foreseeing that the choice would be more difficult for him.)  
________________________________________________  
  
  
“We’ve heard all of these stories.” Elladan moaned to his brother.They were supposed to be picking out a story for Elrond to read them, from their designated section of the Imladris library. It had been snowing heavily outside for the past four days and the young twins were being kept inside, and were proving difficult to entertain.  
  
“No, you haven’t. You never listen or read on your own.” Elrohir argued. He, on the other hand, had read all the books on their designated shelves before.   
  
“Well only ‘cause they are all boring.” Elladan protested. “We should read something else.”   
  
His eyes took on the gleam they always had when the twins concocted plans, and Elrohir joined him without hesitation. The elflings went over to the next row and climbed up on a stool, reaching the books on higher shelves.   
  
“They’re just history books.” Elladan rolled his eyes and left for another isle, but Elrohir remained, flipping through them. Most of them were in languages he could not read yet but he did find one written in Sindarin, and better yet, it was about his father.   
  
He eagerly un-shelved the book and started reading, glancing over his shoulder from time to time to make sure his father didn’t come looking for them.   
  
A few paragraphs in, he ran to find Elladan.  
  
“Elladan!” He whispered hurriedly, finding his brother two isles over, precariously balanced on a tall chair with only three legs. “It talks about Ada’s brother!”   
  
Elladan’s eyes positively shone with excitement. The twins knew, vaguely, that Elrond had had a twin brother named Elros; but their father did not tell them much and their mother said it was not her story to tell. All they knew was that Elros had died, and while Elrond spoke of him with pride and love, his eyes always took ona far-off and sad look when he did.  
  
“What does it say?”   
  
“‘Elrond Half-elven,’ that’s Ada, ‘who chose, as was granted to him, to be numbered among the Eldar; but Elros his brother chose to abide with men.’ But we already knew that.”  
  
“Is there anything else?”  
  
“Just that Elros was King of Númenor. But there might be more in the rest…”   
  
“I’m asking Ada!” Elladan said loudly when he heard Elrond’s footsteps, ignoring Elrohir’s hiss to be quiet, because Elrond would be angry they had read books they weren’t supposed to.   
  
“What are you asking me?” Elrond found them, one eyebrow raised in question.   
  
“ ‘Rohir found this book.” Elladan handed the book to Elrond, and Elrohir crossed his arms and glared at his brother.   
  
Elrond took it, opened to the page the twins had been reading, and his eyes widened and he sighed slightly.   
  
“Can you tell us about Elros?” Elladan asked him.   
  
“All right.” Elrond told them, to their slight surprise, supposing he had to tell them the full story of losing Elros sometime. “As you know and this book does not say, Elros wasn’t just my brother, he was my twin.”  
  
“Were you like us?” They asked in unison, and Elrond smiled.   
  
“Quite a lot like you.”  
  
“Then why are you apart?” Elrohir asked, and neither twin missed the shadow that passed over Elrond’s face.   
  
“Sit down.” Elrond told them. He sank into the soft carpet in that section of the library and the twins sat on either side of them, half on his lap.  
  
“Why aren’t you with your twin anymore, Ada?” Elrohir asked him softly after a moment when Elrond did not begin right away.   
  
Elrond looked between his sons, who were watching him with identical wide gray eyes. There was a time when Elros and himself wouldn’t have been able to understand the concept of being apart, either.  
  
“Where is he?” Elladan asked.  
  
“He lived a long time ago, Elladan.” Elrond reminded him softly. “And he chose mortality. They to not live forever, like we do.”   
  
“Why didn’t he want to live forever?” Elrohir asked, confused.  
  
“That is a long story.” Elrond responded. “But I will tell you the rest of it. Elros and I were born by the mouths of Sirion to Elwing and Eärendil, as you know. But when we were younger than you two, we were separated from our parents-“  
  
“What happened?” Elladan interjected eagerly. The twins knew of Maglor and Maedhros, but nothing more than that they had taken care of Elrond, and they wanted to hear the rest of the story.   
  
“That is another story entirely.” Elrond laughed. “But you know that my parents went to Valinor. They were heroes to us all, but they had to remain in Valinor and could not return. So we grew up with Maglor and Maedhros raising us for a time.”   
  
The twins nodded; this part sounded familiar.   
  
“Well, then I met Gil-galad, King in Lindon High King of the Noldor, and I entered his service and friendship. Elros, instead, went to dwell with mortals for a time.”   
  
“You decided not to be together?” Elrohir asked, looking at Elladan. “Why?”   
  
Elrond felt a familiar pang watching them; remembering how himself and Elros were nearly exactly the same. He saw himself and his brother in his sons so often; though they had a lot of their mother, too.  
  
“At the time, we did not think it would be for long.” Elrond told them gently.  “But then we never left; we learned that being Half-elven, we had a choice. We could be counted among men or elves. I chose elves and…Elros chose men.”   
  
Again, the twins did not miss the far away pain in their father’s eyes.  
  
"Why?" The twins asked together.   
  
"It was his fate." Elrond struggled to explain such a complicated choice to mere elflings. "He identified more with mortals, he wanted to live with them, and as them. He was happy as a mortal, as he could never be as an elf."  
  
“It was the right choice for us each.” Elrond finished.  
  
“You miss him though.” Elrohir said sadly, and Elrond nodded.   
  
“And he misses you.” Elladan added. Elrond realized, strangely, that his small sons understood more about the bonds between himself and his brother than anyone else he had ever talked to about himself and Elros, even perhaps Celebrían.  
  
“I suppose so.” Elrond answered at length.   
  
“He does.” Elladan nodded, and Elrond smiled and gave him a one armed hug.  
  
“What do you say we go find your mother and some warm mugs of tea?” Elrond rose, helping the twins to their feet.   
  
  
  
  
Later that night, after Celebrían and Elrond had tucked them in and blown out the candles, Elladan and Elrohir were still thinking about their uncle. When their parents went to check on them, they found they weren’t yet asleep.  
  
“Elladan, would you ever choose to be mortal?” Elrohir asked suddenly, through the dark room.  
  
“No way!” He laughed.   
  
“But what if you did?” Elrohir moved over to his brother’s bed, worriedly, and Elladan sat up and moved over for him.   
  
“Then you’d choose with me.” He answered confidently.   
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Because you saw Ada when he talked about Elros. He’s happy, but he’s not whole without his brother. We wouldn’t let that happen to us,”

“…no matter our fate.” Elrohir finished and nodded. “Promise it?”   
  
“I promise.” Elladan looked him straight in the eye.  
  
“Me, too.” Elrohir told him, before settling into his side of Elladan’s bed, neither giving a thought to their parents’ gentle reminders every time they did this that “big elves sleep in their own beds,” and both were asleep nearly instantly.  
  
  
Celebrían turned to Elrond and, noticing the tears in his eyes, took his hand and gently led him the short distance to their chambers.   
  
She didn’t say a word, letting him speak first, if he would.   
  
“I hope they do choose together, whatever they choose.” He said finally, quietly.   
  
“Whatever they chose they will do well, as the two of you did.” She reminded him gently, and he shook his head.   
  
“What do you think they will chose? I would hate to lose one of them, I can not imagine both…”   
  
Celebrían wrapped her hands around his. She felt the same way. Not seeing the twins every day was unimaginable right now; of course things could change, as they got older. They would live lives of their own, in Imladris or not. But she hadn’t lost anyone like Elrond had, so perhaps she could not truly feel as he did.   
  
“It is too early to tell.” She answered finally. “You know why I named Elladan what I did. But they are growing up entirely around elves, and around us, that might influence their choice.”  
  
Elrond nodded and swallowed hard.  
  
“Do not worry yet, meleth nín. There is a long time still before that decision will come for them. Let us focus on where they are now. Be at peace, Elrond.”  
  
He smiled a little and sat up straighter. Celebrían was right. Long ago he decided that he would do his best to be happy,no matter what his situation was. A mortal life may be shorter, but if Elrond had chosen the fate to be tied to this world until it’s end, he planned to spend as much of that time as he could enjoying it. And he should teach his sons to do the same.  
  
“I am at peace,  _mell._ ” He said, honestly. He stood, looking out towards the gardens illuminated by the stars and the full moon, and pulled Celebrían into his arms, making her smile. “Let us enjoy the rest of this night.”


	4. Elladan and Elrohir

### Something about a character who is probably a bad influence on you

Elladan and Elrohir. I know, they’re two characters. But FF.net doesn’t even let you choose just one when you add characters, it’s Elladan/Elrohir. So according to FF.net, they’re only one.  
  
  
I imagine if I grew up in Rivendell with them, they’d likely be a bad influence on me. I was always the quiet little kid who teachers loved because I didn’t usually talk…. until they tried to sit me next to the talkative kids hoping I’d be a good influence on them and then I always ended up talking with them constantly. It happened all the time in elementary and middle school. I’m not that quiet, I just don’t usually talk  _first._  
  
Elladan and Elrohir try to switch places constantly. Their parents are the only ones who can consistently tell them apart, save possibly Glorfindel and Erestor and their tutors, and they like to have fun with it every time they meet a new person and think they can get away with it. They try it out on their grandparents but, unfortunately, they underestimate Galadriel and Celeborn.  
_________________________________________________________  
  
“You  _lived_ here?” Elladan asked Celebrían incredulously as the twins took in their first looks of the impressive scenery, entering the City of Trees in their grandparent’s home of Lothlorien.   
  
“For many years, yes.” Celebrían smiled.   
  
“It’s beautiful.” Elrohir breathed. “Adar, why doesn’t Imladris look like this?”   
  
“What?!” Elrond exclaimed in mock insult. “Are you saying your grandparents’ realm is better than mine and your mother’s?!”   
  
“Yes.” Elladan giggled devilishly and ran ahead as his father tried to grab him. Elrond grabbed Elrohir instead.   
  
“I didn’t say it!” Elrohir protested, and then erupted in laughter as his father tickled him.   
  
“He thought it though!” Elladan accused, and Elrohir stuck his tongue out him.  
  
“If all three of you do not behave then I shall leave you here and go meet my parents without you.” Celebrían threatened, and when the twins protested she scooped up Elladan and led the way up the staircase leading to her parents’ main rooms above, Elrond following with Elrohir on his shoulders.

Galadriel and Celeborn were waiting for them in front of the great fountain below the entrance to their Halls. Celebrían and Elrond set the twins down between them when they reached the top of the stairs, and the twins watched quietly as their parents greeted them.  
  
“It has been too long!” Celebrían embraced each of her parents, and they greeted Elrond. Then the two older elves turned to their grandsons.   
  
They had met before, but Elladan and Elrohir had been too young to remember anything of them. They had heard plenty of stories of them and Galadriel and Celeborn had heard stories as well, but only in their letters from Celebrían.   
Elladan and Elrohir couldn’t take their eyes off them, all clad in silver and white, looking even more composed and impressivethan they could ever remember thinking their mother and father looked when they were being Lord and Lady of Imladris.

“You look so like your father.” Galadriel said to them, beaming down at them in that way adults always did.  
  
“And each other.” Celeborn added.   
  
Even to elves keen eyesight the twins were precisely identical down to the last hair, and dressed alike, too. They carried themselves differently though, and the core expressions behind their eyes were different, if only slightly.

Galadriel and Celeborn both knelt down to the twins’ level, and the twins shifted shyly before them, clearly at least slightly intimidated by their grandparents. But before Elrond or Celebrían had said anything, the twins exchanged a quick and mischievous glance and introduced themselves.

  
“I am Elladan.” Elrohir said and bowed politely.

  
“And I am Elrohir.” Elladan echoed his brother’s bow.

  
Their parents both hid their laughter. Elrond’s eyes sparkled, remembering how many Elros and himself had fooled- sometimes for years, when switching places. Though they had never fooled anyone quite like Galadriel, and she and Celeborn held back their amusement flawlessly, though they both knew the truth.

“It is very good to finally meet you two!” Celeborn told them innocently.

“You too.” The twins said in unison, more confident now due to their joke.

Elladan was looking between them excitedly, but Elrohir was watching Galadriel shyly.   
  
“What is it?” She asked him kindly.   
  
“Your hair…” He told her, awed. “It’s so bright.”   
  
It was, it gave off a faint golden light in the dimness of the forest around them, and Galadriel smiled radiantly at him.  
  
“May we touch it?” Elladan asked her timidly, and Elrohir nodded that he was asking, too.   
  
“Of course you may.” She smiled at her grandsons and held out a handful of golden tresses for them and they came forward gingerly, fascinated by it.   
  
“It’s even softer than Naneth’s!” Elrohir exclaimed, and Celebrían again had to hide her laughter.

“Are you ready to see more of our Halls?” Celeborn asked when they had stepped back, and they both nodded excitedly.  
  
“Come, then, Elladan, Elrohir?” Galadriel nodded at the correct twin as she named them, her eyes twinkling.  
  
“It’s the other way.” Elrohir-who-was-really-Elladan corrected her.  
  
“No, it isn’t.” Galadriel smiled knowingly.  
  
The twins’ faces fell and their jaws dropped. No one so new had ever been able to catch them when they switched places. At their shock, the adults finally all burst out in laughter.  
  
“You knew?” The real Elrohir asked incredulously.  
  
“We were there when you were born, certainly we can tell you apart.” Galadriel told them, almost apologetically, for ruining their fun.  
  
“It is also impossible to lie to her, darlings.” Celebrían knelt down behind the twins and put an arm around each. “Believe me, I tried for centuries.”   
  
“Oh, it is possible.” Celeborn winked.   
  
“So I let you think.” Galadriel said serenely and rose, and Celeborn and Celebrían laughed, the twins still looking amazedly between them all.


	5. Galadriel, Celebrían, Celeborn

### Something about a character you wish you were related to

Galadriel, and Celeborn, but mainly Galadriel if I have to pick one.  
  
I’ve never really gotten along well with my family, immediate or extended, especially my mom, and I envy Celebrían because I wish my parents were Galadriel and Celeborn, omg.  
  
I feel like this almost isn’t even as headcanon as just extremely regular canon. But then there are lots of people who apparently think Galadriel wouldn’t have been a good mother, so, I don’t know…  
  
Galadriel is Tolkien’s favorite child, he just kept rewriting her from being strong and smart and powerful until she was  _more_ strong and smart and powerful and flawless. Nenya wasn’t the most powerful that was Vilya, oh wait yes it was Nenya. (Though actually it makes more sense for Nenya to be more powerful, not from a Galadriel standpoint but it was the Ring of Water, and Water was more powerful to the Elves than Air or Fire, no? It was the Sea that called them home, Water that Melkor couldn’t control and therefore hated, and water that held the remnants of the Song.) Anyway, then Galadriel rebelled against the Valar with Fëanor, errr nah she just ran away with Celeborn but no later version she totally opposed Fëanor always and she wasn’t at fault for anything she was perfect what are you talking about.  
  
  
  
I don’t imagine Galadriel thought a lot about being a mother during the First Age. Firstly, she was still super ambitious about wanting to rule so I think that was her main focus, and secondly, elves don’t have children during times of war or strife, and I think Galadriel would have feared to bring a child into a world with Melkor still a threat as he was.  
It wasn’t until the Second Age, and then I imagine Celeborn mentioning it first, that they had Celebrían.  
  
I think Galadriel and Celeborn love Celebrían and prize her nearly to an obsessive level of needing to protect her, like Thingol/Melian and Lúthien.   
Celeborn and Galadriel both watched their kin slowly die off during the First Age and were left with essentially no one but each other (not that most of Celeborn’s family is mentioned much,) so I think when Celebrían came along, she was hope for them, for moving on and enjoying life anew. (And then imagine how terrible it was when that hope was taken away after the Redhorn Pass, when she was going to visit  _them_ and they probably completely blamed themselves both for inviting her then and for not noticing the building dangers in Middle-earth and protecting her better and oh look I’m crying again.) Anyway, so I think she was completely spoiled by both of them and neither could deny her absolutely anything. She could get away with murder or a fourth kinslaying if she wanted. Though they still raised her well; she was their daughter after all, as wise as Celeborn, as kind and ethereal as Galadriel.   
  
I think Galadriel and Celebrían were extremely close, especially as she got older and more started to happen in Middle-earth. I’m sure they both had close friends we just hear nothing about from Tolkien, but I think they would have been very close, even if they were not always around each other.   
  
Just two, mostly random, Galadriel and Celebrían ficlets.  
First one’s fluff, second one less.  
____________________________________________________________  
  
Early Second Age: Year 365

“Nana!” Celebrían exclaimed excitedly, running at her mother while she walked in the gardens.   
  
“Hello Celebrían.” Galadriel turned and smiled happily at her.   
  
“Ooh careful!” She reprimanded gently as Celebrían tread on trail of the long dress her mother wore.   
  
“Sorry!” She gasped, and Galadriel swept her into her arms.   
  
“How was your day today, meleth?” Galadriel asked, kissing her daughter’s cheek before setting her down again and taking her hand to continue walking.   
  
“Good.” Celebrían avoided her mother’s eyes. On the best of days, Galadriel could see when she wasn’t telling the truth. Today, with Celebrían apparently hardly trying, certainly.   
  
“And your lessons?” Galadriel raised her eyebrows.   
  
“Hmm.” Celebrían answered, still looking away.   
  
Galadriel bit back her smile, and then bent down seriously.  “Celebrían?”   
  
Celebrían made a face and still gave no answer.   
  
“I heard from your tutors that you have been skipping your history lessons to play in the gardens.” Galadriel said sternly.   
  
“Not to play!” Celebrían protested. “I was reading. And I was reading history…”   
  
“Celebrían, it is not acceptable to skip lessons and you know that.”   
  
“I know.” She bowed her head.   
  
“This is not the first time we have had this conversation, but it will be the last, yes?”   
Celebrían murmured something unintelligible.   
  
“Yes?” Galadriel repeated.   
  
“Yes.” Celebrían said softly, still avoiding her mother’s gaze.   
  
“Mean it?” Galadriel tilted her daughter’s chin upwards.   
  
“I mean it.” Celebrían said solemnly.   
  
“Good girl.” Galadriel kissed her brow and straightened.   
  
“Do you know why you must learn history?”   
  
“Because that’s what good princesses do?”   
  
Galadriel laughed, her laughter ringing throughout the garden.   
“Well yes, but not quite.”  
  
“Because you lived through so much of it?” Celebrían asked slyly.   
  
Galadriel raised an eyebrow, meaning to look threatening, but Celebrían didn’t even bat an eye and she eventually laughed again. “No. It is because one day you may rule a realm of your own, and the best way to move forward in the future is to not repeat the mistakes of the past.”   
  
Celebrían looked thoughtful for a moment.   
“But what if I just marry someone who knows a lot about history? Then I won’t have to worry about it!”   
  
“Do you think I would ever just let your Ada make all the decisions without learning about them myself, or he me?”   
  
“No.” She answered. “All right, I will learn history.”   
  
“Good.” Galadriel squeezed her hand. “Now you will make up the lesson you missed today.”   
  
They moved to the nearest bench, and Galadriel asked Celebrían if she knew what she was supposed to be learning.  
  
“Family trees.” Celebrían groaned, understandably, and Galadriel hid her laugh.   
  
“Let’s start with ours. Who was the first High King of the Noldor?”   
  
“Finwë.”   
  
“Good, and his children?”   
  
“Feanor, Fingolfin, Findis, Irimë, and Finarfin.” She recited easily.   
  
“And their children?”   
  
“The children of Finarfin were: Finrod, Orodreth, Aegnor, Angrod, and you. The children of Fingolfin are:  Fingon, Turgon, Aredhel, and…” Celebrían scrunched up her face, trying to remember.   
  
“Argon.” Galadriel finished. “And Fëanor’s sons?”   
  
“Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras.”   
  
“Very good!” So Celebrían at least learned well when she  _did_ go to lessons. “You know their Sindarin names, do you know all of their Quenyan names?”  
  
Celebían made a face. “That was what I missed.”   
  
Galadriel taught her the names and how to pronounce them, gently correcting her mistakes, until Celebrían could easily recite not only the Noldor family trees, but also those of the Vanyar and the Teleri in Valinor.   
  
“Nana, how do you remember all this?” Celebrían groaned when Galadriel told her she had learned enough for today.   
  
“I lived with them all, Celebrían.” Galadriel reminded her with a smile.   
  
“Even the sons of Fëanor? But they were bad?” Celebrían asked.   
  
“They were not always.” Galadriel looked far away. “They were decent people once, but they were proud and determined, and it led to their fate and made them do terrible things.” Celebrían was too young to know the extent of those terrible things, there was a reason young elflings spent longer studying family trees than the depths of events certain members of those family trees had caused.  
  
“If they started out good, does that mean anyone who is good could go bad?”   
  
Galadriel shook her head, at Celebrían’s worried expression.   
  
“No one goes truly bad as long as they still have good things to hold on to.” She answered. “I have you and your Adar, and our people, and you have us. It would be a lot harder for any of us to turn to darkness, I promise. You need not worry.”  
  
 “What about Melkor? He was always bad. And orcs are, too.”   
  
“Yes, but Melkor is a Vala and it is more complicated than with Fëanor’s house. And as far as orcs, they were created from evil; they can be nothing else. Elves are created good, and to become evil things have to break that good.”  
  
“Can evil things become good?”   
  
“Yes, I suppose they can.” Galadriel answered, not highlighting the fact that Manwë had once mistakenly believed that and unleashed Melkor on the world again.  
  
“Don’t ever turn evil, Nana.”   
  
“I promise.” Galadriel leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I promise.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
S.A. - about 1735-1740  
  
There had been no news of Celeborn, or little of anything else, that reached Lórien from Imladris, where Celeborn was last rumored to have been.   
  
Lord Elrond, they knew, had established a stronghold named Imladris, and so that was where Celebrían and Galadriel were headed, hoping to find Celeborn or at the very least positive news of his whereabouts.   
  
With them was a sizable company of Elves from Lórien, a small army and guard, members of the higher courts, and some who did not wish to be parted from their Lord and Ladies, wishing to remain with them rather than in Lórien without them.   
  
Still, Galadriel and Celebrían had both been parted from many of their close friends who stayed behind.  
  
  
“Tea?” Celebrían slipped into the tent that she she shared with her mother with two mugs of steaming tea.   
  
Galadriel didn’t answer, but forced a smile at her entrance, and Celebrían settled down beside her.   
  
“We will find him.” She told her mother firmly. She knew her mother’s fear over losing Celeborn was strengthened by the pain she still felt over losing her brothers and being so far separated from her own parents; Galadriel could not stand to lose Celeborn or Celebrían, too.  
  
“He may not even be at Imladris anymore; I cannot sense him at all… We have hardly ever been so far apart that I could not. I do hope, at least, that I would still know if he were…” She shook her head and accepted the tea, if just to not have to complete her sentence to Celebrían, unable voice her fear that Celeborn may be dead _.  
  
_ “He isn’t.” Celebrían said, just as firmly as before. “Adar? If there is any hope left for anyone, you know he is still alive and well, and as strong as ever.”   
  
“Perhaps.” Galadriel gave her a tiny smile.   
  
“We will find him.” She repeated, thinking back to when they had said farewell to Celeborn, which seemed so long ago; when he had stayed in Erigion when they left for Lorien.   
  
 _“Be careful, stay-“  
_  
 _“If you are going to try to tell me to stay “safe and out of trouble,” you might as well not even bother.” Celebrían had laughed._  
  
“I shall leave that pleasure to your mother, then.” Celeborn grinned. “Be well, Brí.”   
  
“Namárië, Ada.” Celebrían had embraced him fiercely, then left to prepare to leave and to let her parents say their farewells.   
  
Suddenly she became aware of Galadriel following her thoughts, with tears in her eyes.   
  
“I do miss him.” Celebrían murmured.   
  
“I know.” Galadriel wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, and leaned her cheek against Celebrían’s hair. “You are right, we will find him soon.”   
  
Celebrían just laughed.   
  
“I would be a lot more comforted if I did not know you were just repeating my words back to me because you think that they’re helpful to say.”   
  
“It would be a lot easier to comfort you if you were not as good at reading truths as I am!” Galadriel smiled, too.   
  
“If only I were as wise as Adar and I could think of something useful to say.” Celebrían answered.   
  
“You are.” Galadriel sighed. “Perhaps there is simply no comfort in words until we find him.”   
  
“Then let’s rest.” Celebrían stood, pulling her mother up too. “The faster we travel tomorrow, the closer we are.” 


	6. Aulë/Yavanna

### Something about a character you would hate in real life, but love reading about  
Aulë (also appearances by Yavanna, though I think I’d like her a lot  in real life.)

I love reading about the Valar, they’re some of my favorite characters, there is SO not enough fanfic about them, and they’re so confusing in canon with all the versions that basically anything goes. But that’s what makes them so fascinating! Also, they’re so un-human that trying to figure out the Ainur and imagine their ways is always fun. But in real life, I think they’d just terrify me so as much as I love them, I’m not sure I’d want to meet them all.  
  
Okay hate is a strong word, but of the characters I love reading about…  
In real life I think Ulmo, Tulkas, and Oromë would just terrify me, I would probably find Aulë and Manwë obnoxious. Mandos would be a combination of obnoxious and absolutely terrifying, and I would like Yavanna a lot, except that I feel like she would be terrifying too. Maybe I’d get along better with Varda, and probably Nienna, Estë, and Vana. I haven’t really thought about Lorien, Nessa, or Vaire, but they don’t seem to interact much with Children anyway, and Melkor would certainly overpower me and find a way to use me for his evil plans, and then just kill me off quickly before I got in the way.

I pick Aulë. Given that he’s a Vala I wouldn’t  _hate_ him, but I don’t think I would go out of my way to spend time around him. Plus Aulë is kind of fishy as the Valar go. (Though as my[friend ](http://eflauta.tumblr.com/)pointed out, Ulmo probably claims the “fishy” adjective.) So first both Sauron and Saruman were supposed to be serving Aulë and went over to Melkor, respectively. He created the dwarves without permission, just because he loved them so it was different than Melkor, true, but he still went outside the Song. And then there was his prize student Fëanor, and we all know how that turned out…   
  
I don’t think he is evil in any way, himself, really. It’s probably just because his order is full of people who love the things they create and desire to create better things, which can cause desiring bigger and powerful things, which never goes well, but still. No one else had Maiar that caused trouble quite like Aulë’s.  
  
Also I feel like he and Yavanna have the most dysfunctional Valar relationship ever. First when Aulë creates the dwarves and Yavanna goes and creates the Ents because she’s angry his creations will mess with hers. Then their conversation at the end where Aulë just goes “Nonetheless, they will have need of wood.” (WHICH I LAUGHED FOR A GOOD 10 MINUTES ABOUT, TOLKIEN INTENDED THAT TO BE FUNNY, RIGHT?) And I’m pretty sure they just skip the part where Yavanna stabs Aulë repeatedly for that comment.   
Then there is the part where Yavanna is grieving over the death of the Two Trees and the Valar ask for the Silmarils, and  _Aulë should be comforting his wife, and he sticks up for Fëanor instead._ Really, Aulë. So I feel like he says stupid things a lot and she spends decades at a time being mad at him.  
  
Here are some arguments between Aulë and Yavanna. She gets angry, he doesn’t try not to offend her nor does he try to apologize, so sometimes she doesn’t talk to him for years, in the counting of the Eldar, at a time.   
  
“Nonetheless, they will have need of wood.”   
***Yavanna goes into a rage and destroys Aulë’s whole workroom, taking whatever he was forging and repeatedly beating him over the head with it. ***  
He’s mad, but he also supposes he probably entirely deserved that one.   
  
*some time later  
  
“Aulë.”   
  
“Yavanna!” He looked up to see her standing in the doorway to his now repaired smithy, arms crossed, half glaring at him. “It has been awhile.”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Am I forgiven?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Then why are you here?”   
  
She shrugged.   
  
“I made you something.” He told her, and her eyes lit up with interest in spite of herself. He brought forth a necklace shaped like an elaborate flower, with a brilliantly shinning green gem in the center.   
  
“It is beautiful!” She told him. “Wait… Aulë… is that  _wood?”  
  
_ “Er, I didn’t cut down a tree, I swear it! It was a fallen branch.”   
  
“Branches don’t  _fall off_ any of the trees here, dear. Have you not been married to me long enough to learn that?”   
  
“Well it would help if you were here, not off wherever it is you go when you aren’t speaking to me…” He stopped when she advanced threateningly. “In any case, I got the wood from Middle-earth, a fallen branch there. Better to make a work of art than to rot there, no?”   
  
“I do not believe you.”   
  
“Fine.” Aulë shrugged and went back to work, and when he looked back up Yavanna was gone, and so was the necklace. He smiled; he knew she’d like it anyway.  
  
  
  
The next time he saw Yavanna, at a Valar counsel three days later, she was wearing the necklace and casually showing it off to Vána and Estë.  
  
“Am I forgiven?” He asked her when he got a chance.   
  
“No.”   
  
“I am sorry I was rude about your Ents I know that they are as important to you as my children are to me.” He said in one flat-toned breath. It wasn’t even very sincere sounding, but apparently it was enough.   
  
“That is all I wanted.” She beamed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go home.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
“I am not saying you do not teach well, dear, I am simply saying it is a fact that the Children enjoy my lessons more.”   
  
“As if anyone would like a foul smelling smithy better than a forest and clean air!”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Yes, and somehow I manage to overlook that and love you anyway. Children of Ilúvatar, however, have more sense.”   
  
“The Noldor like my lessons better.”  
  
“No,  _most_ of the Noldor do. Few of the Vanyar, none of the Teleri, and we might as well count the Silvan elves in Middle-earth for me too, based on what they do there. Sindar elves too, really.”   
  
“Perhaps you’re right about the Silvan and the Sindar, but you can’t count the Teleri either. The Teleri don’t have much time for you or I, and the Vanyar are more interested in the teachings of Manwë and Varda than yours or mine.”   
  
“Fine. I am still ahead. I win this one.”   
  
“Yes, dear.”  
 **  
**~*~*~ ****  
  
 _But they don’t always fight._  
  
Yavanna hurried from her pastures to Aulë’s smithies as quickly as she could when she heard his cry of dismay.  
  
He was sitting on his bench with his head in his hands.   
  
“Aulë? What happened?” She sat beside him and rubbed his shoulders.   
  
“Eonwë was here.” He answered without looking up. “There has been conflict between the elves and the dwarves in Doriath. King Thingol was slain by one of their hands, and the elves slaughtered all the dwarves. But it wasn’t just them; the Ents slaughtered most of them. “  
  
Yavanna gasped. “Oh, love, I am so sorry. “ She put an arm around him and hugged him. For all they liked to argue over their children, she had never wanted there to be such conflict between the dwarves and the Ents, she never wanted the Ents to have to exercise their strength like this. But the Ents always would side with the elves, not the dwarves.   
  
“Thingol had hired them to forge something, with a Silmaril, and then they wanted it for themselves. They had a legitimate claim, though they were rude to make it as they did, and Thingol insulted them rather than discuss it and… All over one of those cursed Silmarls! If only Fēanor had given them to you when we asked…”   
  
“I know. But you better than anyone knows why he did not.” She reminded him.   
  
“It was not just the guilty dwarves, either. There were women there, children, they lived in Doriath! A lot of them, innocent…”  
  
“ I know.” Yavanna repeated faintly. She didn’t remind him that Thingol had been the King, how the elves had reacted out of pain and loyalty. She tried not to wonder what they or Melyanna must be going through. She tried not to think of what this would mean between the Elves and the Dwarves, that neither side would forgive this readily; Aulë would realize and understand it all for himself.   
  
“Was it not you who created the Ents as an enemy of the dwarves? You’re probably-“ He glanced up at her, meaning to glare, but when he saw that her eyes were as full of tears as his own and he stopped. “No, you aren’t. I am sorry.”   
  
“I never wanted to see your children hurt.” Yavanna told him quietly. “I know how you care for them, I do. It pains me to see this happen nearly as much as it pains you, and because it pains you so.”   
  
Aulë nodded and leaned against her, and Yavanna began to hum a melody, trying her best to fill his mind with images of better things, comforting him as best as she could.


	7. Thingol

### Something about a character you’ve never really understood.  
Thingol. 

  
From what we see of Thingol’s character, there isn’t a lot to show us why Melian the  _Maia,_ and not just any Maia but the wisest and fairest of all Lórien’s people, chooses Thingol. He’s prideful, doesn’t listen to her advice, doesn’t play well with others (Noldor, men, dwarves…)  
  
What does she see in him?  
  
An Exploration of why Thingol is a good King, despite questionable Silmarillion actions.  
  
No fic today, I’m debating writing one while I’m thinking about Thingol still, but this alone was almost 5 pages in word so maybe I should just leave this post alone.  
  
________________________

”Melian alone of all those spirits assumed a bodily form, not only as a raiment but as a permanent habitation in form and powers like to the bodies of the Elves. This she did for love of Elwe; and it was permitted, no doubt because this union had already been foreseen in the beginning of things”

Melian didn’t just “take the form of the Elves” like sometimes the Valar could take whatever form they wanted, she  _became_ the form of the elves, and gained ridiculously strong increases in her powers over Arda because of it. (More on that in later headcanons.)  
  
I think that went both ways, it only makes sense, besides, Thingol was  _“as a Lord of the Maiar.”_  I think he basically was nearly as much like a Maia through Melian as Melian was an elf through him. And she was a great Maia to begin with, and he was a great elf to begin with. Through Thingol Melian gained a “power over the substance of Arda,” and through her, I think Thingol gained a great amount of Maia-like wisdom.   
  
So I think the questionable actions he makes during the Silmarillion have reasons behind them that made them make sense to Thingol. He wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t just this proud and brash King who depended on his Maia wife to run his Kingdom and keep it safe.   
  
I think Melian couldn’t “rule” in the same way he could. She was of the Ainur, and the Valar and Maiar aren’t supposed to rule the Children of Illùvatar, they are only supposed to guide them. So, Melian couldn’t make decisions and commands for Thingol’s people. She could teach them, she could give aid and counsel and protection, but ultimately, it was Thingol who made the ruling decisions, and that’s important. Because their realm together  _was_ very successful. Their people were relatively safe, compared to the rest of Middle-earth. They moved underground and built the Thousand Caves, which was a pretty smart move. Without the help of the Valar at all, they kept Morgoth’s forces at bay. So definitely, early on, Thingol either made some pretty good decisions, or at least had the good sense then to be able to listen to Melian and keep their people safe.   
  
I think that, throughout basically the whole Silmarillion, Thingol is entirely panicking about what is happening. More than he ever would have earlier in his story, if Tolkien had told us more about it. He did really well in the beginning, but now his people are threatened by things he knows nothing about, and things outside Melian’s power to handle.   
  
 **Then the Noldor:**    
They show up and Thingol realizes that not only are they here in large numbers but they won’t tell him everything, that their secrets could be dangerous, and he’s worried that they’ll go over to Morgoth’s side which is a legitimate fear since he, at first, has no idea why they are here, and it would be  _really_ bad for everyone if they did.  
  
So of  _course_ he’s wary of them. He accepts Finarfin’s children into Menegroth, but honestly he was right not to accept the rest. What would have happened if he accepted the Sons of Fëanor into his Kingdom? Perhaps nothing, but they were the ones who threatened in the end to destroy not only him but his entire people, and then they did exactly that when they attacked while Dior was king. 

”Alone of the princes of the Noldor those of FInarfin’s house were suffered to pass within the confines of Doriath for they could claim close kinship with Thingol himself since their mother was Eärwen…” 

He wasn’t super happy about it, but I don’t think he was rude to them.  
Melian became close to Galadriel, Celeborn married Galadriel, I don’t think Thingol held some huge grudge against them while they were there, I am sure he welcomed them well. He counseled with Finrod often even after they had left, at which point the other Noldor were completely ignoring him and not telling him anything, which Thingol wasn’t too happy about, understandably.   
  
He did ban Quenya and banish the Noldor away from him. But they kept this  _huge freaking secret from him._ They never told him about the Silmarils, and especially that Fëanor or his sons were dangerous, or about the kinslaying, which had Thingol not have been so worried, could have gone badly had Thingol tried to trust them. Honestly the Noldor were more to blame than Thingol was for any rocks in their relationship. He allowed them to live nearby, only that he wouldn’t allow them where his people already were, as he did not want his own people turned from their own homes.   
Which is pretty logical, Thingol is King, he is allowed to protect his own people from strangers.   
  
He is super cautious, but given that the Noldor have a habit of not telling him anything, and he is trying to rule a kingdom and wants to know what is happening for the safety of his people, he’s probably justified in not being happy that they are keeping important things from him.  
  
 **Then Beren:  
**

“…he (Thingol) was troubled by dreams concerning the coming of men.”   


It’s possible these dreams showed him part of what Beren would bring to Doriath; the death of his daughter, Thingol making a bad decision (getting the Silmaril) that eventually led to his own death and to his Kingdom’s downfall. That wasn’t Beren’s fault, but his coming set it in motion. 

He says: 

“into Doriath shall no Man come while my realm lasts, not even those of the house of Bëor…”

So then his beloved daughter brings home a mortal, and Thingol has been having terrible dreams of mortals. How do you expect him to react? His goal is to get rid of this mortal ASAP and hope his daughter forgets about him, but Thingol promised Lúthien that he wouldn’t harm Beren.   
  
Now Thingol’s really panicking, because the Noldor may have been threatening his people, to him, but this mortal is threatening, to his eyes, his people  _and his daughter._ Thingol and Melian seem to love Lúthien to the point of obsession with needing to protect her,  _so that’s a big deal to Thingol._  
  
Thingol saw Beren as a threat. His nightmares about mortals, just the fact that his daughter was now involved in this, and let’snot forget the fact  _Beren got through the Girdle._

Melian said to Galadriel: 

 _“Now the world runs on swiftly to great tidings. And one of Men, even of Bëor’s house, shall indeed come, and the Girdle of Melain shall not restrain him, for doom greater than my power shall send him…”_  
  
(Beren had nothing to do with wandering into Doriath, I think Eru just directed that whole thing. Beren himself was not actually more powerful, like any power he could use, just his fate was more powerful than Melian’s power in the Girdle. Melian’s prophesy to Galadriel says that it’s the doom on him that allows him to pass; his doom is more powerful than her power. (WHICH IS PRETTY FUCKING POWERFUL) and his fate was to enter Doriath.)  


But she never told Thingol, for whatever reason. (Seriously what IS it with everyone keeping things from Thingol?!)   
  
If there is anything Thingol trusts it is Melian, and to him, she can keep out terrors like Morgoth and Ungoliant, but  _how evil must this creature be to have gotten through where the most powerful Ainur in Middle-earth can’t?  
_  
So Thingol’s probably terrified of this.  
So he sends him for a Silmaril.   
  
Important: Thingol doesn’t want a Silmaril. He surely has no desire for one of these wretched rocks that has caused the Noldor so much trouble, caused the Valar so much trouble, but he’s sure enough that sending Beren into Morgoth’s lair will kill him. (Until he gets it. More on that later.)  
And from what he can see, he isn’t wrong. No one thought Beren had a chance (Except Beren, and Melian.) So Thingol is 100% sure he has gotten rid of Beren, that Lùthien will forget about him, and that this threat not only to his Kingdom but also to his family is gone.   
  
Of course, he is wrong, and he would have known that if he had listened to Melian. But I don’t think we can blame him  _too_ much. I think he was in a very difficult situation. What if he  _hadn’t_ tried to send Beren away? Perhaps he could have swallowed his pride and given his permission for Beren to stay and court Lùthien right away. But would it have kept   
Lùthien safer?   
  
Thingol’s dreams told him Beren was trouble. He had to get rid of him without directly hurting him, and to him, a Silmaril was a really genius idea.   
  
(But again, I think Eru had a hand here. Beren’s fate was to get the Silmaril from Morgoth; Melian’s voice of reason couldn’t change the events that led to that happening. (Perhaps that’s why Thingol had the dreams, they were from Eru. I mean Lórien is the master of dreams, but if Melian can’t sense anything over the Sea (as she tells Galadriel) I don’t think Lòrien is too involved in events there. Maybe Eru just needed Thingol to be afraid enough not to listen to Melian.)  
Either way, regardless of that, Thingol was definitely terrified of Beren and saw sending him to his death as his only option.)   
  
But then after Beren and Lúthien return to Doriath (with the Silmaril in Beren’s hand) Thingol starts to change his mind, and after Beren dies saving Thingol’s life, when he returns, Thingol has totally changed his mind about Beren, and mortals in general. (See: Túrin.)   
  
So Beren goes to get the Silmaril and comes back, not dead, and Thingol proves he’s capable of change. Which is something we see in few other characters with questionable motives or actions throughout Tolkien’s works. (If only the Sons of Fëanor would have changed after the first kinslaying….or the second…..or even the third…)  
  
After they return to life even Melian didn’t accept what happened that readily. Thingol is overjoyed they return, and Melian “turns away in grief,” knowing Lúthien’s fate.  
  
 **Then, Túrin-**  
Thingol’s shining Silmarillion moments are really when he raises Túrin, tries his best to get Túrin back to Menegroth when he leaves, and his conversation with Húrin. I think all of this is his “norm,” the character he’d have been through the years between Melian and Thingol meeting and when Tolkien gets around to talking about them again once the Noldor return to Middle-earth. I think he was a much more wise and generous King than we see with the Noldor and Men.   
  
Previously Thingol hated men, and now he allowes Túrin to be not only accepted into Doriath, but:

 _“Thingol recieved_ _Túrin, and took him even to his own fostering, in honor of H_ __ú_ rin the steadfast; for Thingol’s mind was changed towards the houses of elf friends.”  
_

So that’s a pretty big deal coming from Thingol. Then, when there is the whole episode with Saeros and Túrin tries to run away, thinking Thingol will be angry with him, Thingol entirely forgives him and asks him to come back,

“Gladly would I welcome him back, for I loved him well.”

THAT’S ABOUT THE BIGGEST PRAISE ANYONE GETS FROM THINGOL, EVER, AND IT’S A  _MORTAL MAN._    
  
Then, at the end of the chapter, we get Húrin screaming at Thingol about ruining his family. Thingol doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t defend himself, he lets Húrin get out what he wants to say, and then lets Melian talk to Húrin and reveal to him the truth. Which is a lot different than when the Dwarves scream insults at Thingol and he gets angry. (Pointing to the influence of the Silmaril, not just Thingol’s personality.)  
  
 **Then, the Dwarves.**  
Once Thingol had a Silmaril, he wanted it. I mean, the Silmarils have that power over people or else we wouldn’t have much of a story, but at least Thingol has a reason over say, Morgoth wanting the Silmarils.   
  
Yes, he should have listened to Melian’s counsel on it. There’s no excusing that, but at least, like with Beren, he does have some reasons.   
  
First, one of the first things we learn is that he strongly desires to see the light of the Two Trees again. He forsakes that for Melian (seeing the light of Aman in her face,) but I don’t think he lost that desire entirely. Then he learns that they are destroyed and that even if he sails, he will never see that light again. So when he gets a Silmaril, it is a piece of that light. It’s a bit of what he lost, what his people and daughter (because of him and the spell placed on him) never had.   
  
Also, he made a mistake the first time with counsel on the Silmaril (So you’d think the second time he’d listen to Melian…) and essentially Beren and Lúthien lost their lives for it. Lùthien lost her immortality for it. He doesn’t just want to give it up because of what it represents now. If anyone alive has a claim to the Silmaril, I support Thingol’s claim the most.   
Yes the Sons of Fëanor had a claim because their father made it, but I think they lost that claim with the First Kinslaying. (and the second, and the third….)  
  
So he wants to wear it. With the Nauglamír which now, to him, represents Túrin and Húrins story, as well as the Silmaril representing Beren and Lúthien. So he went from hating mortals to wearing something that honors three separate ones.   
  
Now the dwarves make their claim. Perhaps their claim to the Necklace was legitimate, but they had no claim over the Silmaril. Thingol, of course, starts yelling insults at them (GREAT idea) and we all know what happens then. He was wrong to yell insults at them, but when they said their claim was greater than his, they were insulting Lùthien, Beren,  Túrin, and everything the necklace and Silmaril meant to him. _  
  
_He was wrong to insult them (really, stunted people, really?) but it was also pretty wrong of them to kill him for it…  
  
  
So in summary, Thingol isn’t a bad King or elf. Some of his actions are questionable. Thingol was passionate, and his main goal was always to protect and honor his people and his family. He was proud, but that wasn’t his main fault, his main fault was just being quick to anger and quick to have questionable actions. Which, of First Age men or elves, who  _isn’t._ His reasoning was always sound, to him. He never made wrong decisions out of greed or power lust, with the exception of insulting the dwarves over the Silmaril, which is hardly even his fault (or the Dwarves) given that that’s part of the Silmaril’s whole power, they make people desire them.   
  
Outside of Silmarillion events where he is panicking because events outside his and Melian’s power to control are happening, Thingol shows better actions, as shown with his treatment of the House of Húrin.   
  
He isn’t just this brash and proud King; he is a King who has seen a lot of dangers threaten his people. He is a King who cares deeply about his people and will do anything to protect them, if the repercussions of his actions aren’t always what he expected.  
  
We still don’t get answers of why a Maia like Melian falls in love with  _any_ mere elf, but if there was going to be one, it makes sense for it to be Thingol. 


	8. Elrond/Celebrían

### Something about your OTP

 **Elrond and Celebrían are still my OTP to rule all OTPs, so I’ll pick them.  
But I do love Thingol and Melian and Galadriel and Celeborn *almost* as much. ** ****  
  
Second Age- 2480  
  
  
Tonight all of Imladris was feasting, a last celebration before hard battles that were sure to be ahead. Gil-galad had been attending councils in Imladris and would depart in the morning to return to Lindon and Galadriel, Celeborn, and Celebrían also would depart in the morning, for Dol Amroth. Tonight was a farewell to the four of them, and a chance for Elrond to attempt to lighten the darkness that had settled over the Valley, as most elsewhere, of late.   
  
“Celebrían, you look breath taking tonight!” Glorfindel told her enthusiastically as she took her seat across from him and between her parents.   
  
“Thank you, Glorfindel, as do you.” She gave him a wide smile, trying not to laugh as Celeborn unnecessarily gave him an intimidating glare that Glorfindel impressively managed to miss.   
  
The food was wonderful, all of Imladris’s absolute finest in honor of its guests; the finest wines were being served, and everyone was in high spirits. Even Elrond was less serious than he had been of late; likely thanks to the combined efforts of Gil-Galad and Glorfindel to be sure he enjoyed himself.   
  
When the meal was over and the singing, dancing, or storytelling began, Celebrían found herself just watching for a while, starting to realize just how much she would miss the peacefulness of Imladris and the company of it’s elves.   
  
“Would you care to dance?” Elrond offered her his hand to her.  
  
“I would love to.” Celebrían beamed and accepted, briefly wondering why Elrond looked almost nervous, but giving it no more thought as he led her out onto the floor of the hall. Celeborn was not far, perhaps he just feared receiving one of the looks Celeborn had given Glorfindel.  
  
“You’re tense.” Celebrían told him after a minute. “Relax, you dance well.” She wondered if Elrond did not dance very often. Would Maglor or Maedhros ever have taught him? Perhaps he learned late.   
  
“Thank you.” He smiled and relaxed, some.   
  
The music started off slow, and Celebrían’s eyes traveled the room at first. Everyone was indeed merry tonight; Gil-galad was dancing with her mother and roaring with laughter at some story she was telling him, Celeborn and Glorfindel were in a heated debate, over large amounts of fine wine, with some other elves. She almost laughed when she saw Erestor sitting by himself in a corner with a book, typical Erestor.   
  
She looked back at Elrond to tell him, and felt a small, not unpleasant, jolt when her eyes met his. The music began to speed up and she devoted all her attention to him, wondering how she had never really noticed his shocking grey eyes before. Were they always this intense?  
  
The music continued to speed up and so did they, swirling in complicated steps, completely in sync, eyes locked on each other. All the hours she had spent with Elrond over books and maps and tea during her stay here and Celebrían had never seen him like this, or at least had not noticed it. Until now he had been her parent’s friend, master in lore, Lord of Imladris. Her friend, too, but ultimately she had never really looked past his lordly kindness and soft sense of humor, his passion for lore and for books, and his devotion to his peaceful Valley and those who lived in it. Now she was keenly aware of Elrond’s strong arm around her, his hand gently resting on her waist, and the way his body moved perfectly in time with hers.   
  
He did dance extremely well; she wondered why he had been nervous about it. Unless he was nervous about something else entirely…  
  
The song ended and the rest of the elves dancing were moving to rest or reset for the next song or to find new partners. But Celebrían did not move a muscle, still standing locked in Elrond’s arms, as lost in the depths of his eye as he was hers.   
  
They were both breathing slightly heavily from exertion, and Celebrían could feel his chest close to hers as it rose and fell with every breath he took. His face was only inches from hers and she wanted to reach up and brush his cheek with her hand, but suddenly she realized where she was and how many people could be watching. Elrond seemed to as well, and they stepped apart, just in time for Gil-galad to walk up and tell them they made good partners.   
  
“Thank you.” Celebrían recovered and answered first, flashing a beautiful smile at the Elvenking.   
  
“It is all Celebrían.” Elrond smiled at her, hardly looking at Gil-galad. “She dances well enough to make anyone look good with her.”   
  
“She is her mother’s daughter!” The King told her kindly, and then left them to join the dance floor once more.   
  
Celebrían felt her stomach flutter at Elrond’s compliment and the way he looked at her. No, she thought. She was leaving tomorrow. Now was not a good time to start seeing Elrond in new ways, definitely not.


	9. Melian and Galadriel

### Something about your brOTP

female brOTP-  **Melian and Galadriel.**  
  
In early versions of the Silmarillion Galadriel went over the sea with Melian early on and served her as a handmaiden. Just one of six thousand alternate canons on Galadriel that I can’t decide if I like, but I like the idea that they sort of bonded over feeling Middle-earth was more exciting than Valinor. And certainly Melian more than shared Galadriel’s “deep reverence for the Valar.” (Did she judge Galadriel for participating in the rebellion though, I can’t decide.)   
  
  
~*~*~  
  
Before the court of Thingol and Melian, in the throne room of Menegroth, entered for introduction the Sons and Daughter of the House of Finarfin.   
Angrod, of course, had met with the King previously, and on being offered to stay as Thingols guests he had returned with his kin.   
In first walked Finrod with Galadriel and behind them Orodreth, Angrod, and Aegnor.   
  
As they stopped and bowed respectfully, Thingol gave them a formal welcome, and Melian’s piercing stare watched them each in turn.   
  
They were proud, she could tell, all five of them.   
  
Their sister, Artanis, caught Melian’s attention the most. She was proud even beyond her brothers, but also seemed wiser, and her kindness was beyond that of even Finrod’s. A light shone from her eyes that indicated she had the potential for great power rarely seen among the Eldar, and the way her hair reflected light could only remind Melian of the light of the Two Trees in Valinor.  
  
While Melian watched her, Artanis turned her clear eyes from Thingol to Melian’s instead. In an instant Melian could see Artanis’s fierce desire to rule and her ambitions of life in Middle-earth, her deep wisdom, and also of her love for her family, her people, and for arts. And oh, that power inside her. She could do great things if she wished, or terrible. Great, hopefully, if she learned to control it right. Artantis would make a powerful ruler indeed, one day.   
  
She mentally raised an eyebrow, giving Artanis a small smile. Artanis smiled back somewhat sheepishly and then quickly turned her attention to Thingol, who was finishing his speech. The five of them gave their thanks at his welcome, and thanked him for his kindness in letting them stay. Servants came to show them to their rooms and let them settle in, and Melian caught Artanis’s eye again, giving her a warm smile.   
  
At dinner, to Artanis’s surprise, Melian invited Artanis to sit next to her. Her brothers were already seated on the other side of the King, so Artantis moved across from them to sit at Melian’s side.  
 ****  
Melian seemed very interested in life in Valinor, so Artanis told her as much as she could without letting on to more recent events. Her answers about the Valar and the Maiar and how the elves settled seemed to satisfy Melian, anyway.  
  
Briefly, Artanis wondered if she should be pleased that Melian had apparently taken an interest in her. Hadn’t she meant to come to Middle-earth to get away from the Valar, now only to attract the interest of one of the most powerful Maia?   
  
There was something different about Melian than most of the Ainur she came across in Valinor, though. She was in no way any less powerful or intimidating than the Ainur in Valinor, but unlike them she seemed more interested in the lives of the Eldar and more among them than the distant Valar were. So when Melian offered to tutor her on Middle-earth history and invited Artanis to come to her study later in the week once she has settled in, Artanis accepted.    
  


‘You are tempted by power.” Melian told Artanis at the end of their first lesson, where Artanis had learned much on the history and lore of Middle-earth. “You must always be sure the power you seek does not lead you to evil; power is dangerous, no matter where it comes from.”  
  
“That is what my father always tells me.” Artanis said with a hint of a smile.   
  
“Then he is wise.” Melian advised her. “How are you settling in here? It is quite different than Aman.”   
  
“It is.” Artanis beamed. “It is wonderful!”   
  
“Good.” Melian smiled and began shelving some books she had spread on her desk.   
  
“May I ask you something?” Artanis asked hesitantly.   
  
“You may.” Melian gave her a piercing glance; though Artanis was nearly sure Melian already knew what she would ask.   
  
“Why did you choose to come here? I know why you chose to stay, but what made you come in the first place?”   
  
“A few things.” Melian said vaguely, and took a moment before expanding **.** “I was not the only one of the Maiar who visited Middle-earth on various missions from a Vala we serve; but I was one of the few to ask to come. I was not unhappy in Aman, on the contrary, but I had a desire to come here that I could not explain. I believe now that it was meant to happen so that I would be here at the right time; but then I only wished to come and see these lands for myself; I did not know what I would find.”   
  
“The Valar gave you all leave to come?”   
  
Under Melian’s piercing stare Artanis wondered what she perceived of the Noldor’s current standing with the Valar, but when Melian went on without comment, Artanis simply resolved to be more careful in the future.  
  
“Long ago, yes. Many of us worked in Middle-earth, Vala and Maia alike. Yavanna and Oromë themselves came often.”   
  
“Are there others still here?” Artanis was glad that unlike the Valar, Melian seemed to actually be willing to answer all her questions.   
  
“None that I know of, or at least none that did not go over to darkness. Certainly no others are openly active among the Eldar or have contacted me, but other than that I can not say for sure.”   
  
“Do you miss them?”   
  
“I do. But I love what I have here; I do not wish to go back yet.”  
  
 _Me either._ Artanis thought, and by the small smile Melian gave her she knew the Maia had read that in her face. Maybe she and Melian had more in common that she had first thought.


	10. Galadriel and Celeborn

### Something new about a canon relationship  
 **Galadriel and Celeborn on what to do at the end of the First Age.**

Other headcanons on them:  
When they first met, Celeborn and Artanis did not take much notice of each other. Celeborn was, though intrigued by the Eldar from the West, altogether more interested in the happenings of Middle-earth than the appearance of the Noldor from Valinor. And Artanis, ambitious, proud, princess of the West, was much too focused on her own goals and kin, and what she was learning from Melian, to pay much attention to a single prince of Thingol’s many kin. Gradually, though, they began to see each other clearer. Celeborn realized that she was fiercely intelligent, noble, and passionate more than she was proud, as well as fiercely loyal.   
Artanis realized that Celeborn was not only the most wise of any of the Sindar she had met but that he had a solid confidence in a way few were ever able to achieve. She was especially intrigued since most in Middle-earth, save her superiors were easily intimidated by her. At home it had not been so; her older cousins and older kin were harder to intimidate. In Doriath, it had been different.  
 However Celeborn was not intimidated by her in the slightest, and she found she liked this. He had not a trace of arrogance, but he knew his intelligence and skills matched her own, and he respected her as an equal, something few here had the confidence to do.  
Once they did notice each other, their respect grew in to love and that love only grew stronger, ever more so, through the long ages to come.  
Also, Artanis noticed Celeborn first. **_________________________________________________________________  
** _This kind of goes ever so slightly against canon with the above because Celeborn “would not leave Middle-earth,” but it’s close. (And Tolkien changed Galadriel and Celeborn’s story so much it’s hard to stick to anything actually canon anyway.)_  
  
I think Celeborn, at the very least, told her to sail if she wanted to; I think he would have felt bad about making her choose between himself and her kin in Valinor. Though he certainly didn’t want her to leave him and he didn’t want to follow. (See: “Kinsman, farewell! May your **doom**  be other than mine, and your treasure remain with you to the end!”) But I think he would have offered.  
  


During the long War of Wrath, Artanis had stayed far enough away from the main fighting that she had not seen her father at all.

Their meeting after the war had felt brief and almost distant, not helped by Artanis telling him that she would not be returning with him.

Celeborn looked up when she entered their chambers and, reading the emotions on her face, took her into his arms instantly.

"Galadriel," He said after a while, "I would leave, if you wish for us to."

She pulled back, startled. “I would never ask that of you.”

His deep eyes continued searching hers.

"I wish to stay; I wish for a life in here Middle-earth, with you." She told him.

"If you returned you would be with your kin. I do not want you to have to choose between them and me."

"I choose staying, Celeborn, for you and for my own other reasons."

"If you are sure."

"I am." She told him firmly. I have not yet done everything I wished for in Middle-earth, I am not yet ready to go back, if I ever will be."

"But Middle-earth is not your home." Celeborn replied.

"That is what the Valar told us, and what my father said." Galadriel laughed. "Middle-earth is my home, at least it is now. It is where you are happiest, too, and that is where I want to be."

"If you are sure you wish to stay." Celeborn offered her another chance to change her mind, and she rolled her eyes.

"I am. I came here to rule, and I have hardly done that. With all that went on with Morgoth I have hardly lived in Middle-earth during peace. I have not even seen much of it yet! I would do all of that before I return to a land solely governed by the Valar for all eternity."

"All right, you are sure." He grinned.

"Yes." Then she smiled. "But now, before they leave, you must come meet my father."


	11. Melian and Elwing

### Something about a non-canon relationship  
Elwing and Melian

  
I’m so bad at “non-canon” gah. Close to canon, perceivably possible I guess I can do, surely someone somewhere disagrees and Tolkien never specifically said it so, it’s non-canon :p  
  
First I tried thinking of Celebrimbor and Galadriel, of if Galadriel returned his feelings back in Valinor at any point, “you  _turned_  to Celeborn of tree…” but I just can’t make it make sense with what young Artanis was like in my head.   
  
So I was trying to think of characters that never met and Melian and Arwen came up, but the only dialogue I could think of for them was “ _how the heck are we even talking?”_  
  
I was thinking about Melian and Finrod, because I don’t think Galadriel was the only one who befriended Melian and learned things from her in Doriath. I think they all would have gotten to know her, just not as well as Galadriel did. But I can’t actually think of anything to write for it, so that’s all you get for that headcanon at the moment.  
  
So I’ll go with Melian and Elwing. I don’t know if they met in Middle-earth, for the purposes of this fic I’m going with no, but I don’t know, they could have. Either way, I certainly think that Elwing would have sought out Melian while they were both in Valinor. She was missing her sons, her parents and brothers still, and her grandparents probably. Melian knew all of them and grieved for their fates as well, and knew what it was like to lose a child, too. And Melian was surely missing everything she had lost so much, so her great-granddaughter was good company she desperately needed.  
  
  
  
When Melian found a tearful Elwing seeking her in her gardens, for the first time since Thingol’s death, she found herself willingly donning her elven form again.   
  
“Oh, you look just like her.” Elwing said softly when Melian stepped out from the shadows of the trees.   
  
“I see her in you, too.” A slight smile spread over Melian’s sorrow filled face.

  
“I miss her so much.” Elwing’s voice broke, choking back tears. “And the rest of them. No one else truly understands, and I thought you might…”   
  
“Of course, child, of course I do.” Melian embraced her great-granddaughter and they both let their tears spill over.

“How do you manage it?” Elwing asked after a long while.   
  
“I am not sure I do, not well.” Melian smiled wryly. “I will introduce you to Estë and Nienna some day, they are better with grief.”   
  
Elwing nodded gratefully, and Melian handed her a handkerchief to dry her tears. “Will you tell me stories of her? When she was young?”   
  
“I would love to.” Melian answered. “If you will tell me of her later days and of your parents.”   
  
“Certainly.” Elwing smiled, almost happily. “Do you think we will see her again, at Dagor Dagorath?”   
  
“I try not to think about it.” Melian said softly. “But yes, I do suppose we may have that chance.”   
  
“Mandos should give her the choice, then, again, and let her and Daeradar remain with us this time.”  
  
“He may.” Melian answered solemnly. “Or it may not be possible. Not even Mandos knows what those times will bring. Nor do Manwë and Varda. Perhaps Lúthien being mortal was a part of the Song that only Eru knew of, and that will reveal itself then.”  
  
“A child of the Ainur and elves with the fate of a mortal, to unite men, elves and Ainur?”  
  
“It could be something like that. Or nothing at all.”   
  
Neither of them said anything for a long while.   
  
“Do you blame the dwarves for what happened? Or Eru himself?”   
  
“No, I do not.” Melian softly brushed back Elwing’s hair. “No one is to blame for our fates, Elwing, not even ourselves.”   
  
“If only I had stayed… Elrond and Elros wouldn’t have been left with those- they would still be…”   
  
“You could not have stayed Elwing, you know that.” Melian told her firmly.   
  
“I left them all alone-“  
  
“And they are safer for it.”   
  
“Their fates are so uncertain now. I may never see them again.” Elwing said hoarsely.  
  
“You may.” Melian hugged her closer. “Do not give up hope.”   
  
“You have.” Elwing murmured, and then instantly regretted it.   
  
But Melian just laughed.   
  
“I have not given up hope, I have just set it aside. But do not do that either! You are not me.”   
  
Elwing laughed at Melian’s wry smile   
  
“All right.” She said. “I promise. But only if you promise to let me visit you often.”   
  
“I will be disappointed if you do not.” Melian told her. “Come, I will show you the forests.”


	12. Finarfin

### Something about sleeping habits  
Finarfin

Finarfin hated sleeping the entire time his children were in Middle-earth. He had never had such as a passing moment in a dream that included Middle-earth before his kin had left, but now he was plagued with constant nightmares of events that happened or could happen, usually involving his children’s deaths. He would try to stay awake as much as possible, but sleep eventually was inevitable, and he would often toss and turn all night. Eärwen could offer him little comfort, especially since he was careful to close his mind at night so that she couldn’t read his thoughts and share the horrors of his dreams.   
  
  
  
Finrod-  
  
Finrod was the worst of the five. Finarfin had constant nightmares of Finrod dying in countless different ways, and ironically none of the way in which he actually  _did_ die. He saw swords slay him, men or elves turn against him, riding accidents, storms, spies of Morgoth, a thousand things Finrod managed to survive that Finarfin feared he wouldn’t. After Finrod was slain in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Finarfin and Eärwen had no idea until news was brought to them from others.  
  
Orodreth-   
  
Finarfin saw Orodreth less often than Finrod, and he never saw his second son in life threatening situations until, though Finarfin didn’t know it, Túrin was born. A few years after these dreams started, they started featuring Túrin (though Finarfin never knew his name,) a mortal who came to Nargothrond and brought about its ruin.   
  
Aegnor and Angrod-  
  
The two were usually together, though not always. He saw every battle or potential minor danger, but it wasn’t until the night of their deaths that he saw what would happen. That night he watched them die Finarfin knew it was real, and that it would happen soon. He had awoken, screaming, in Eärwen’s arms while she sobbed. Having failed in hiding this dream from her she had seen it, too.   
  
Artanis-  
  
Finarfin never once had a dream about Galadriel. He could never see anything of her fate, good or bad, and this made him worry about his only daughter more even than the rest. He felt less connected to her now. He worried that somehow her fate would be worse than the others and that for that reason something hid it from him.   
A short time after the First Age ended his dreams of his sons had faded completely, but he still never dreamt of Galadriel. It wasn’t until the Fourth Age was begun and Galadriel sailed home that Finarfin began to stop worrying about her fate, though once she had returned he never let on to her how deep his fears had been. 


	13. Maglor

### Something about phobias  
Maglor

I went to a list of phobias and got a random number generator to pick a phobia and here it is: Mnemophobia- Fear of memories.  
  
Enough years of wandering by yourself and trying to forget will do that to you. I think Maglor got to the point where he effectively forgot everything at times, the good and the bad.   
  
 _“_ _In many cases, mnemophobia doesn’t come on suddenly, as it would after a particularly damaging psychological trauma. Sometimes, mnemophobia develops slowly, as the psyche finds more and more reasons to associate negative consequences with the act of having memories. In cases where mnemophobia comes on slowly, psychologists often can’t pinpoint a singular reason for the disorder.”_  
  
Well that just makes it worse. Imagine Maglor, not right after discarding the Silmaril, but after reflecting on his sorrows for long enough gradually beginning to fear his memories and avoid them to protect himself.   
__________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
After all these years, never talking to anyone save the occasional animal, sleeping rarely and dreamlessly, Maglor had almost forgotten why he was so sorrowful. Until Elros showed up and ruined everything.  
  
“Maglor.” He jumped at the sound. Who here knew his name? Forgetting came easily after all this practice; remembering was harder. But he knew who it was even without turning.   
  
“Elros.” His voice cracked.  He had used it to sing, but not to speak in years. “How did you find me.”   
  
“I have my ways. May I sit?”   
   
Maglor moved over on the cliff side he sat on and Elros sat beside him. Now Maglor startled looking at him, seeing the aged man sitting beside him, so different from the elfling he had known.   
  
“Why have you come?”   
  
“Because Elrond possibly never will, and because I am not long for this world.”   
  
Maglor was silent, his heart hammering as he feared what Elros would say.   
  
“I know you grieve, Maglor, I will not tell you not to. But Elrond and I both deserved to see you one last time.”   
  
“I caused the two of you enough pain.” Maglor answered flatly. “I would not impose my company on you any longer. Please do not make me relive any of it.”  
  
“You could sail West. You have punished yourself enough, I am sure the Valar would allow you there.”   
  
“Perhaps before we stole the Silmarils. After, no.” What would he possibly say, to the Valar or his kin, if he were to show up there?    
  
“Why do you not go to Mandos, then?”   
  
“Perhaps I will, eventually. If I am just waiting there or here, I’d just as soon do it here.”   
  
“You still do not have to be alone. Elrond would welcome you. He and Galadriel both tried to find you.” Maglor looked even more alarmed, so Elros added “Fear not, I did not tell either of them I had found you.”  
  
“Elros, after what I did even I do not welcome me.”  
  
“That does not mean others won’t, Maglor.” Elros sounded tired beyond his years, before Maglor remembered that he probably saw years differently as a mortal than he had before.   
  
“What would you have me do?” Maglor asked.   
  
“Waste away for years here, if you must. But one day Elrond will sail West, and then you should find him and go too.”

Maglor laughed, his laugh empty of mirth. They both knew that it wouldn’t happen.  
  
“I am sorry for all the trouble I caused you and Elrond, please do not try to make me cause any more. If that is all you came for, you should go.”   
  
“I will. But not before reminding you that Elrond and I both loved you as the father you were to us. And you deserved it; you still do.” Maglor closed his eyes shut and winced. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear.  
  
Elros stood to leave, but not before wrapping Maglor in a long embrace, even as Maglor struggled.   
  
“Good-bye, Maglor.” Elros said, and was gone.   
  
 _Farewell._ He thought, but he said nothing, calming his breathing and humming a quiet tune of nothingness that spread blankness through his mind again, feeling his pulse still and his tension slip away as his memories faded to blankness again. 


	14. Celebrían

### Something about dreams or nightmares

_**Celebrían** _

 

For all Galadriel’s “magic” (of course, the Elves don’t call it magic) and foresight, Celebrían never had much of it, and what she had was much more subtle. Save one occasion that even her mother could not decipher.   
As a small elfling Celebrían had never seen an Orc and had hardly been told of them, and yet she had constant nightmares of orcs. No one could explain this.   
  
(Note: I believe that at the incident of the Redhorn Pass with the orcs that Celebrían was raped, as is implied by Tolkien, and I don’t think tiny Celebrían quite had nightmares of  _that,_ I think she just had unclear dreams of being in an Orc cave, knowing she was afraid, and seeing Orcs, which would be terrifying enough for an elfling. In this headcanon fic when Galadriel see’s Celebrían’s dream she sees more detail than Celebrían ever does, due to her own power.)  
  
Eventually her parents convinced her that if she could learn to fight she would be able to defend herself in her dreams and have no more fearful nightmares and, once she had begun to master the sword, it worked.   
  
It was many, many years before the incident at the Redhorn Pass **,** but when it happened, Celebrían felt many details of her horror was familiar, because she had had nightmares of it as a child.   
It wasn’t until millennia later that Celeborn and Galadriel realized that they should have taken these nightmares much more seriously than they did, that they should not have forgotten them, and this increased their guilt over what had happened.   
  
_______________________________________________________  
 ****  
Galadriel had not been very deeply asleep, and had awoken instantly when the door to her chambers slid open ever so slightly and Celebrían crept in on light feet. She sat up, which woke Celeborn, and Celebrían’s fearful eyes shone out at her through the darkness.  
  
“Another nightmare, sell-nîn?”She asked softly, and Celebrían nodded tearfully and ran to her. Galadriel lifted her easily onto the bed when her daughter threw herself into her arms and a small sob sounded.   
  
Now Celeborn sat up too. “This is the fourth time this week, Brí.” He said worriedly, stroking her hair.  _And the third night in a row._ He added mentally to Galadriel, who shook her head.  
  
“It was the same one.” Her high, small voice was muffled against her mother. “I keep seeing Orcs…and they’re black and hairy and then there’s this huge one with mismatched ears and teeth and a horrid face and they’re all scary. And they smell of…. _death_ ”  
  
Both her parents suddenly frowned. Celebrían had never seen an Orc, they were sure of that. How did she know what they looked like?  
  
“Celebrían, dear, has someone shown you a drawing of an Orc? Where have you seen them?” Galadriel surely hoped no one had shown or told her elfling what an Orc looked like, briefly wondering who would be suffering her wrath come morning.  
  
But Celebrían just shook her head. “I only ever saw them in dreams.”   
  
Galadriel and Celeborn frowned at each other, but decided where the nightmares came from wasn’t the most pressing matter at the moment.   
  
At her daughter’s bidding Galadriel sang softly to her until Celebrían was calm enough to be persuaded to try sleeping.   
  
She curled up between them, her arms wound around her mother and her face pressed tight against her. Safe in her parents’ arms, she finally drifted into a peaceful sleep.   
  
  
 _Darkness. She was somewhere in a cave. There was no light anywhere, and she had no recollection of how long she had been in this cave. Perhaps forever. The fear and hopelessness in this darkness was too thorough for any memories of light to slip through.  
  
Her hair was matted and tangled… she glanced down at it. The gold- no, silver, when had it become silver? – was streaked with blood, and she realized the blood was her own.  Her eyes traveled to the weapons and knives littering the cave floor, also coated with her blood.  
  
She was too weak to lift a limb, she realized, and she jumped weakly and frightfully at a noise above her, though her mind was too foggy to even remember why she was afraid.   
  
Then she remembered. Orcs.   
  
The image morphed. Then there was pain, though she knew not where it came from. She heard loud noises and realized they were her own screams…why couldn’t she stop screaming?  
  
A gray Orc, monstrous, appeared above her and she realized she was tied down. She tried to escape the ropes that bound her as his knife pierced her arm, but the Orc only tightened the bonds more and struck her, mercilessly laughed at her pain.   
  
Why couldn’t she stop screaming…_  
  
“Galadriel!” Celeborn’s concerned voice cut through her sleep and she awoke suddenly, realizing she was drenched in sweat and that Celeborn and Celebrían were sitting watching her, Celebrían on his lap and pressed frightfully against her father now.  
  
“What…oh…Celebrían, I’m sorry child, everything is all right now…” Her voice shook even to her own ears.  
  
Celebrían was shaking too, and she now moved to hug her mother.   
  
“Did you have a nightmare?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“You had my nightmare.”   
  
Galadriel didn’t answer, watching Celeborn instead, and Celebrían pulled back.   
  
“Wait a moment.” She said authoritatively, and slid out of the bed, running out of the room.   
  
“Where…?” Galadriel asked, and Celeborn shrugged.   
  
“She is right, I did have her nightmare.” Galadriel told him fearfully. “Celeborn, what  _was_ that? How could she imagine such things?”   
  
“Later…” He muttered softly, for Celebrían was back.  
  
“Here!” She thrust the sewn cloth horse Galadriel had made for Celebrían at her and climbed up behind it. Galadriel had made it for her when the nightmares first started, hoping a comfort animal might stop the nightmares, and had told Celebrían the horse could join her in her dreams and would carry her away from any danger she might encounter there. It hadn’t worked.   
  
“Maybe she’ll help you, if she didn’t help me.” Celebrían told her mother hopefully, and Galadriel broke into a smile in spite of her worry.   
  
“Thank you, my dear.” She murmured, pulling Celebrían close and pressing a kiss to the top of her silver hair.   
  
“I can sing to you?” The elfling suggested, and Celeborn told her it was a wonderful idea.   
  
Celebrían sang the one Galadriel liked to sing her best, though she forgot half of the third verse, and Celeborn helped her. After the fourth Celebrían started to grow tired herself, so Galadriel picked up for them, watching Celebrían drift off to sleep again and watching Celeborn follow.   
  
Then she laid her own head down, her arms around Celebrían and Celeborn’s arm draped over them both. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her still racing heart.   
  
If it had been a nightmare of her own, she would likely not have been so afraid, but the fact that it was Celebrían’s made it so much worse.   
  
But, she thought as she started to drift, opening her eyes again, tomorrow would bring what tomorrow may bring. Tonight, her family was safe.


	15. Lúthien, Melian, and Thingol

### Something that makes you impossibly happy to think about.

I’m always confused about whether everyone gets reunited at Dagor Dagorath and after, because if the men, elves, and Ainur all fight the battle together they must, right? If the men sing the Second Song with the Aiunur, the men and the Ainur have to meet, right? So Melian could probably find Lúthien. But then there’s that quote in RotK about Elrond and Arwen and their “ _and bitter was_   _their parting that should_  endure  _beyond the ends of the world_.” Like, _beyond_ including Dagor Dagorath, or not? (Maybe I’m reading it wrong, help?)   
  
Maybe Tolkien just hadn’t decided about Dagor Dagorath/The Second Song at the time he published RotK?   
It would make sense to decide that the men and elves would be separate after the battle, but at least during it if they’re all fighting, how are the Valar going to keep them apart? And if the men sing the Second Song with the Ainur, and Lúthien is partially both of those things, she’d at least get to see Melian then? So I’m pretty sure they see each other, and since Tolkien never said what happens in the Second Song unless you count that little hint of a line in RotK, I’m perfectly justified in imagining they all get to be reunited again.

 ****  
  
No one, save perhaps Mandos, but if he knew he did not tell, knew of when the escaping of Morgoth would take place until it happened. First there was chaos; the Valar holding constant counsels where nothing seemed to be decided, the elves rushing around for a battle they knew would come but knew nothing of, everyone desperately trying to find family if they had been separated before.  
  
The first appearance had been of the men of Númenor of old, when a chasm in hills on the edge of Aman had opened, and in a great host of men appeared, at long last, the men Eru Ilúvatar had fatedto the Caves of Doom for so many ages past. They said little to the Elves or the Valar, save Eonwë herald of Manwë, and they seemed to know their purpose and to await it valiantly and grimly.   
  
Next the Halls of Mandos began to empty; all the men and elves still there were released, though Fëanor and his sons were not yet.   
  
The dwarves appeared by Aulë’s side one day and set to work in his smithies, building armor and supplies, but none can say when exactly when they returned, or from where.   
  
Last to appear were the Men, come from their unknown fate of where mortality led them. A great light shown forth through the sea and men began to appear in hoards.   
  
  
Elu and Melian were not the only ones anxiously tearing through the camps of Men when they had begun to settle in. Elrond and Celebrían, along with Elladan, Elrohir, Galadriel, and Celeborn, were there too, to search for Arwen and Elros. Elwing was not far, awaiting her son’s arrival.   
  
  
“Queen Melian?” A mortal who had no way of knowing who she was asked, and Melian’s first thought was that no one called her that anymore. But when she turned and saw a mortal girl standing behind her, the girl smiled widely.  
  
“Oh, you look just like Lúthien! She told me you did. She’s just nearby, I’ll go get her!” And the girl disappeared.  
  
Elu came and grasped Melian’s hand, and a moment later they saw the girl returning with Lúthien and Beren behind her.   
  
Melian and Elu rushed forward as one. Lúthien beamed and let go of Beren’s hand for a moment to embrace them.  
  
Thingol and Melian nearly crushed Lúthien between them in a fierce embrace, not a dry eye among them.  
  
 “At last.” Melian murmured against her daughter’s hair, when she could speak again. She did not care what the battle or the Second Song would bring, Ilúvatar himself could not force her to let go of Lúthien ever again.


	16. Melian

### Something that makes you weep tears unnumbered  
Melian.

  
Most of my favorite characters have something make their stories turn out well enough, in the end, once they sail. And then there’s Melian.  
  
She lost Lúthien.  _(“_ _and no _grief_  of loss has been heavier  _than the grief of Melian the Maia_  in that hour.”) _We never hear about Thingol being reembodied. All elves are, eventually, (save Feänor) but Melian goes and spends years in Valinor “musing on her sorrows” so it seems Thingol isn’t reembodied quickly, in any case. Which, I know he didn’t die doing anything particularly noble like the others reembodied quickly, and he was surely prideful, but he was married to  _Melian_ for goodness sake. The Valar would stop their work and listen to song because it was so beautiful, couldn’t she have asked for Thingol’s re-embodiment quickly?   
  
  
  
I should probably give some background on my headcanons on the Halls of Mandos.

  *        I imagine that death among the Eldar (more so than men who seem to be released, to go to wherever men go, much quicker than elves are released,) is a hard experience for them to go through; the shock of death is such a challenge.
  *        I think that is why, for example, Finrod is reembodied so quickly. It wasn’t a shock for him, he knew it was going to happen and he was able to return quickly to life, because he required less healing. Same with Glorfindel. They were prepared for death, unlike Thingol, who probably thought the power of Melian’s and his own wisdom would protect him through however many ages Elves remained in Middle-earth.
  *        (I’m sure a lot of soldiers in the wars were prepared for death, but perhaps fighting in a battle and also having a part in a kinslaying extended your stay in Mandos? More to recover from?)
  *        So I think Thingol is basically catatonic in this headcanon fic because he is still healing and needs it; his death was traumatic and unexpected. And he feels a lot of guilt over the manner of his death and the fact that he died at all.
  *        It’s almost cruel that Mandos and Yavanna put her through this but, then, Melian would have been more upset at why they wouldn’t let her see Thingol at all if they never did
  *        Also I always imagine Melian and Yavanna as very close. Melian was  _“most akin to Yavanna herself”_ and I’ve always imagined they had sort of a family relationship, like Yavanna was her close aunt or something similar to that.



 

(  _meleth minai nîn_  = only love of mine.)  
  
“Is there nothing you can do? I know you owe me nothing, but I must try to ask it of you.” Melian tried not to sound harsh to Yavanna, but had she not been a loyal servant to Vána and Estë for countless years before her time in Middle-earth and many after? Had Yavanna not listened to her songs enough in these years past? Why wouldn’t they help her?  
  
“Melyanna.” Yavanna said finally. “It is not our choice.”   
  
“Then can you not take me to Námo?”   
  
“It is not his choice either.” Yavanna told her softly.   
  
“What does that mean?” Melian’s hope faltered.   
  
Yavanna let out a long sigh and beckoned Melian follow her, and she did.   
  
  
Now they stood before Námo, who stared at her a long time saying nothing. He knew what she wanted before Melian or Yavanna had even made to speak, and so they never had.  
  
“Death is not easy, especially for some. I offered Thingol re-embodiment as soon as you arrived back in Lorien. It is Thingol’s decision to stay where he is, not mine, and I can not send him away against his will.” Námo told her eventually, hardly a trace of care in his voice.   
  
“No…” Melian shook her head, it could not be.   
  
“See for yourself.” A flash of anger momentarily passed over Námo. “I will allow you   
to visit him once; that I can do for you, but no more.”

  
The Halls of Mandos were almost cozy, Melian thought with a shudder, gazing at the tapestries lining the walls as Námo led the way down a long hall.  
When they reached a door near the end he opened it for her and stood back, closing it behind her once she was inside.   
  
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and took in the details in a moment. It was a comfortable chamber, almost precisely in the design that their chambers had been in Doriath, she realized with a pang. Despite the red tones on the walls and all the cloths, though, it had little warmth to it; it felt impersonalized, almost like a cell. And sitting in the middle of the room in a wooden chair sat Thingol himself.   
  
He had made no reaction when she walked in and he continued staring straight through her.   
  
“Elu.” She knelt in front of him and took his hands. They were cold as ice. “Thingol, please look at me.”   
  
He wouldn’t.   
  
“Come back with me, it has been long enough.” Tears were running down her face now. “Elu, why will you not look at me?”   
  
His expression remained blank and he stared past her, empty.   
  
“Do not do this.” She whispered, and hesitantly caressed his face. “I love you.”  
  
There was still no response, and the only sounds in the room were her choked out sobs.  
  
“Please…” She begged him, and she tried turning his face so his gaze pointed towards hers. She watched…something, she did not know what emotion it was, cross his eyes momentarily, and then he tried to look away. She held his face between her hands, keeping him there, so he closed his eyes instead to avoid looking at her.   
  
“No…” Melian dissolved to tears again.   
  
“TALK TO ME!” She shouted with all the command of the power inside her, and his eyes sprung open and he did look at her. So he  _was_ in there somewhere.   
  
“Come back with me.” She repeated.  
  
He turned his head away and faced the tapestry on his wall; it was of the Two Trees.   
  
“I do not deserve to.” The voice that left his lips sounded nothing like the one she knew and remembered, and as joyful as her heart felt for hearing him speak at last it also sorrowed at the sound of it. “I no longer deserve you.”  
  
So he blamed himself, was that it? He would not come back with her because he blamed himself for his own fate, and for the fall of his Kingdom.  
  
“If anyone is to be held at fault it is the Valar for not taking action against Morgoth sooner, or Feänor for what he did, and Morgoth himself for what was all due to his own doing. Yet none of them sit as empty shells and sunder themselves by choice from those who love them! Come back to me.”   
  
He shook his head once and went back to staring.   
  
“You have always been proud and now you are pretending to yourself that you have ruined your pride. Yet it is not ruined, it is more prevalent than ever; you are causing your own pain here because you will not let go of it!”  
  
Nothing.  
  
“For me, for any memories we have still of Lúthien, please, I beg you.”  
  
Still nothing.  
  
“I do not blame you, not even for forsaking my counsel on the Silmaril. Your people never did. Even if I ever had I would forgive you anything.” She tried that angle. “You do not belong here.”  
  
He blinked, but there was no response.   
  
“You belong with me.”  
  
Melian could talk no longer, she was weeping too much to speak now.  
  
He didn’t look at her, he didn’t comfort her, he didn’t move at all.  
  
Distantly she heard the door open behind her and she felt Yavanna trying to pull her away.   
  
“No!” She wouldn’t go. “I will stay here, leave me here!”   
 _  
“You cannot.”_ Yavanna told her mentally.   
  
“Elu, Thingol,  _meleth minai nîn_ , please, let me take you, I can heal you, and we can get through this.” She grabbed his cold hands tight in her warm ones again like she would never let go.   
  
“Come, Melian, you can stay no longer.” Yavanna told her more firmly now.   
  
“He is not himself, I can help him…get Nienna; let her help him, please! I can not go back.”   
  
“You must.” Námo was there too, pulling her hands away from Thingol’s, and Yavanna led her out.   
  
“Beloved…” She wanted to say something to him, one last thing, to tell him how much she loved him and needed him, anything that might get through to him. But she was unable to say or do anything but weep as she was led from the room.  
   
One muscle twitched in his cheek and for a moment she struggled wildly against Yavanna’s hold on her, thinking he might say something. But then his face was passive and blank again so Melian was sure she had imagined it, and the last thing she saw of Mandos before her tears blinded her and her elven form faded was the painfully empty stare on the face that had been her husband’s.  
  
Melian returned to dwell in Lórien, alone, as silent as the empty shell of Thingol she had met. Even the Valar could not count how much time passed before she spoke or sang again. The gardens around her were silent and thick with her sorrow, and even the birds no longer made any sound around her.   
  
For quite some time even if any tried to visit her she would not go near them, not even Námo or Yavanna, who told her there may yet be hope for Thingol one day, and promised he would be released immediately if he ever wished it. Námo told her that some elves simply took longer to recover after the shock of death, the loss of life; that it was not so unusual.  
  
But Melian could no longer hold to any hope. Her pain was too deep and she had nothing left. Once before she had felt a grief like this, when she had learned of the fate Lúthien chose for herself, but even then she had still had Thingol by her side. Now she would not see Lúthien again and she would not see Thingol again for so long it was not worth counting, even to a Maia. They both had chosen to be without her, and she was left alone, cursed to walk alone in the shadows of the trees for so many years left of time.   
__________________  
 _(Okay so when I wrote this originally I made myself so depressed over Melian that I just moped for like a day and a half until I finally gave in and wrote a happier-ending sequel, so that's the next chapter.)_


	17. Thingol and Melian (extra)

  
Sequel to the last chapter.

Thingol is released from Mandos, eventually. Not until sometime in the mid-to-late Fourth Age of Middle-earth, though.

 

”Fine.” Melian had waved off the Maia that came to tell her Yavanna was coming to visit her the next day. She knew not why, she cared not why.

Now, she wandered in a clearing in the center of her home in the gardens, waiting. A bird, a nightingale, landed beside her and she managed a smile at it. It sang to her and she answered with her own song. Though it was halfhearted for her, it still drew a small flock more of nightingales to her.

“Melian.” She froze. That voice, that wonderfully familiar voice.

She turned slowly, fearing she would turn and he would not be there after all. But he was.

“Elu?”

He smiled. It was a real smile, warm and familiar, such as she had not even imagined on his face for millennia uncountable.

 

“I am here.” He answered simply, and she could feel her face brighten, as it had not for millennia uncountable.

“I will leave you.” She was vaguely aware of Yavanna turning away, but much more focused on rising and slowly moving to her husband once her elven form took shape again.

There were tears slipping down her cheeks, both in joy and in the release of her long sorrow, and he hesitantly reached to brush them away. When he did she closed her eyes and reveled in his touch.

“If I did not deserve you all that time ago when I first told you I did not, then I certainly do not now.” He murmured, and she opened her eyes again.

It was a humbleness she had rarely seen in him, though she perceived that his pride too was little diminished and she was relieved that he had not changed.

“Do not say that. You always have and you always will.” Her voice broke slightly with emotion. “I love you.”

Now, unlike all those years ago, he gathered her into his arms, stroking her hair with his warm, strong hands, comforting her.

“I love you too, Melian. I am sorry, so sorry, for everything.”

“Do not apologize, I meant it when I said that you have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone needs to be sorry it is me. I failed in protecting you…your people…”

“No, never.” Was all he said, and he tightened his arms around her.

They were silent for a long while.

After a time, he pulled back and looked at her, touching her face, and then he gently leaned to kiss her.

She crushed him to her with impressive strength and when they eventually pulled apart the shine in her eyes had returned, that had not been there since long ago before any real problems had arisen in Doriath.

_______________________________________

They had spoken of little that night. When Elu woke the next morning he found Melian already awake.

“Good morning.” She whispered with a warm smile, gently brushing his cheek.

“Mm, good morning.” He answered, closing his eyes again and tightening his arms around her to pull her closer against him, reveling in the wonder of waking up next to her again.

“Come,” She laughed. “Let us go for a walk, I want to show you the forests, and I feel like singing again.”

Elu opened his eyes and returned her smile, letting her pull him up with her.

It was wonderful how normal it felt to be back together again. He had feared there would be distance between them after all that had happened, but that had not been the case. Things certainly were not as merry or simple as they had been before, but the two of them were no less close because of it.

After a breakfast of fresh fruit, a gift from Yavanna, she led him into the shadows of the trees that they so loved. She began a song, one he knew well that had been sung often in Menegroth, and Elu silently walked beside her and watched the nightingales flock when they were drawn to her song.

Deep into the forest where the trees grew thickest- which, for the trees of Lórien was far thicker, taller, and lusher than any tree Elu had seen before, they stopped and rested against a trunk.

“There is much you wish to know.” Melian’s voice was no less beautiful in speaking than in song.

“What of our people?” He asked the question that had been on his mind since he was conscious enough to think it. In Mandos one could learn much from the tapestries or elsewhere before being re-embodied, but Elu only knew general events, few specifics.

“Many are here. Most who escaped Doriath after the attack lived in other lands or kingdoms with new allegiances, but after they sailed many sought me out, awaiting your return. You are one of the first to be reembodied.”

He nodded. “And Lúthien? Beren?”

Tears suddenly sprung to her eyes.

“They died peacefully but I was not there… I am sorry.”

“Melian, it was not your fault; you couldn’t have stayed, I know that.”

“I should have been there, found a way…”

“It was not your fault.” Elu repeated, drawing her close until she could speak again.

“I still regret it, if only I could have done more, and for your people, I was their Queen and-“

“And you protected them well, for as long as you could.” Elu told her firmly. “You could not have done any more than you did.”

She nodded. He realized she had needed to hear it from him; to know truly he had not blamed her, before she could truly forgive herself for what happened to their people.

“Beloved, after all this time…”

“When I was so desperate to reach you in Mandos it was not only because I worried for you, it was because I needed you also.” She told him quietly.

“I know.” Elu kissed her forehead. “I wish things had been different.” He told her after a moment, but Melian only shook her head.

“What became of the rest of our kin?”

“Dior and Nimloth remain in Mandos; Elwing is here, as are her husband and Elrond, her son, with his family. As for Elúred and Elúrin we never heard. I thought perhaps there might be news in Mandos?”

“I heard nothing of them.” He told her sorrowfully and Melian sighed.

“Celeborn is one of the few of our kin to survived the Kinslaying, and the rest have not returned from Mandos. His daughter married Elrond.”

Elu nodded, that he knew. “Olwë?”

“He is, I am sure, anxious to see you.” Melian smiled. “And well. He is very well.”

Elu relaxed and smiled. There was some good news, at least.

“What will we do now.” He asked, less of a question than a statement of wondering.

“You could take up ruling in a land here if you wished, many of our old people would follow you, and perhaps some new ones. Or you could stay here; they are not far. Or you could go wherever you like, King or not.”

“You like it here.” Elu said, turning to her, and she shrugged.

“We should stay.” He decided; it felt like the only right choice. “You spent enough time living among my people, perhaps I should live among the Maiar some, with you.”

She beamed. “You do not have to decide today, meleth.”

“I can rule from here, or near enough to here, if our people are nearby. I will be their King again, if they will have me.”

“Of course they will have you.” Melian laughed. “Your people love you. That is like asking if I would still have you; that is a given.”

“Still not something I would ever take for granted.” Elu grinned as Melian leaned to kiss him.


	18. Galadriel (Artanis) and Celeborn

### Something that’s practically canon  
Artanis.

_Artanis getting the name “Galadriel.”_  
  
I’m not sure if this is practically canon, definitely canon, or wildly interpreted wrong. In the Unfinished Tales there’s the line about: “the name she chose to be her Sindarin name was Galadriel, ‘for it was the most beautiful of her names, and had been given to her by  **her lover, (Celeborn,)** **whom she wedded later** in Beleriand.”   
  
Sounds like the order was 1. lover, 2. named her, 3. wedded.  
  
Perhaps it’s just worded confusingly, or lover meant that Celeborn was  _eventually_ her lover, after they wed in Beleriand. I mean, Tolkien was super Catholic, he would never imply pre-marital relations between such high elves, would he? A lot of people believe he did mean it, however.  
  
I personally like the idea, of course she had her “deep reverence for the Valar,” perhaps she would never go against such a definite law,  but I think early at least somewhat rebellious Artanis/Galadriel wouldn’t have seen it as such a breaking of the custom, if she knew she was going to wed Celeborn at some point, anyway  
  
  
 ~~(Also I tried but omg I just can’t write smut so my fic starts after.~~ ~~)~~

“You are so beautiful.” Celeborn told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “More than any names or words I have could describe.”   
  
She smiled and tilted her head towards his again, searching for his lips. He met hers eagerly.  
  
“I have never liked any of my names.” She told him after a minute. “I have never felt like they fit; like I didn’t belong to them, or they to me.”   
  
“What name would you prefer?” Celeborn asked.  
  
“I know of none. What would you choose?” She asked him somewhat sleepily, nestling against his shoulder.   
  
Celeborn thought silently for a good while and she had started to drift off when he spoke again.   
  
“Altáriel.” He said softly, the name rolling off his tongue. “Galadriel.”  
  
She blinked and pulled herself back into wakefulness.   
  
“Galadriel.” She repeated slowly.  _Maiden crowned with a radiant garland._ “Galadriel. I like It.”   
  
“lt suits you.” He shrugged. “From now on, may you be known as Galadriel!”

“Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.” She smiled at him. “It fits.”  
  
“It does, indeed.” Celeborn gently kissed her brow.  
  
“I love you, Celeborn.” She said.   
  
“Melon le, Galadriel.” Celeborn told her warmly, and she nestled against him again, truly drifting off this time, perfectly contented.

  
~*~*~

Galadriel, for she had already begun to use that name for herself in her head, had told Celeborn she was sure no one would be able to tell they had gone ahead of any tradition and bonded, but she had not mentioned that that was not entirely true. If anyone would notice, Melian certainly would. And the next day, she did.   
  
After Galadriel and Celeborn very carefully arrived separately at breakfast and from different sides of the palace, Galadriel met with Melian late morning, wondering if she should even bother to attempt to shield her mind.    
  
She decided that would raise more attention than anything else, though, and knocked on the door to Melian’s study as usual. Hearing Melian’s “Enter,” she pushed Celeborn from her mind and focused instead on lesson things.   
  
It was fruitless, though. In the first moment Melian glanced up at her entrance she frowned and stood quickly. For a moment Galadriel was afraid she would be angry, but for all Melian was trying to look stern a smile was spreading across her face.   
  
“I suppose you think since Middle-earth is so far away from the Valar that that sort of thing is acceptable here?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.   
  
Galadriel couldn’t help grinning, but gave no worded answer yet.   
  
“I have to say it is high time, though. The King and I have been wondering when you two would exchange vows for quite some time now, Artanis.”   
  
“Then you do not disapprove?” She tried not to laugh.   
  
“Oh I would not say I  _approve_ , but who am I to pass judgment on what has already taken place?” She shrugged, laughing. “I certainly approve of the match! I am so happy for you.”   
  
Then Melian surprised Galadriel by pulling her into a crushing hug, and Galadriel, in return, was loosely following Melian’s thoughts as her thoughts turned to herself and Thingol, and had to try hard not to giggle.  
  
“Do not raise your eyebrows at me, Artanis Finarfiniel!” Melian said when she pulled back, but they were both laughing. “That was when I first was called Melian by him, the Sindarin translation of my name, as you know.” She reminisced.   
  
“Celeborn gave me a name last night.” Galadriel answered, almost shyly, and Melian turned curiously.   
  
“What name?”   
  
“Galadriel.” She said. “Alátariel.”   
  
“It is a perfect name for you, Galadriel.” A slow and warm smile spread across Melian’s fair face. “Celeborn is indeed wise!”  
  
“Indeed.” Galadriel smiled, too. Indeed he was.


	19. Elrond and Elros

###  Something that’s wildly improbable and it’s almost sacrilege to attach the word “canon” to it at all.  
Elros 

ELROS BEING REBORN IN VALINOR. Yeah this would not happen. Elros didn’t just chose a mortal life he chose a mortal death, that was basically the point of the choice so this makes no sense, really, but I like to pretend it would when I start feeling especially miserable about Elrond’s tragic life.   
  
(plus this way Arwen doesn’t get to meet him when she dies DAMNIT I JUST MADE MY HAPPY ENDING SAD TOLKIEN WHY IS EVERYTHING TRAGIC)  
  
  
Elrond stood at the head of the ship as they were nearing Valinor, gripping the railing tightly and impatiently watching the pale form of the land growing ever so slowly closer in the distance. Everyone knew how anxious he was to see Celebrían again, and no one was disturbing him.

He imagined that Celebrían knew he was to be there soon. News likely spread fairly fast in Valinor, and she would be waiting for it. Ships of elves had sailed out recently and they knew the date Elrond and Galadriel’s ship had been due to leave, so it wouldn’t have been hard to estimate when the ship of the three Ring Bearers would arrive.

When the ship finally was close enough to make out the shapes of elves there watching Galadriel came to stand at his side and they both scanned the shores for her, but the crowds gathering were rather thick, and they could not pick anyone out.

The ship landed and still they were searching as they got off the ship first. There, few paces into the sandy shores, Elrond finally saw her. His Celebrían. After not seeing her for so long he felt as struck by her beauty as he had been the first time they met. Her clear blue eyes were fixed on him as she now hurried towards him, her long, soft silver hair flowing behind her. He stepped clumsily towards her, her name tumbling repeatedly from his lips until he reached her and enveloped her tightly in his arms.

"Elrond…" She said softly against his neck, holding him close to her, taking in deep breaths of his familiar scent.  
  
The tears in his eyes were spilling over, and her hair was sticking to his wet cheeks. It had been so long. But finally his lonely years in Middle-earth after their parting were over; they were together again, and always would be. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, but eventually he pulled back a little, his hand cupping her face, looking into her eyes for signs to make sure she was all right.

"I am well now, Elrond." Celebrían said, covering his hand with hers, and smiling through her own tears. "I am, I truly am."

"You do look it!" Elrond said happily, and kissed her forehead gently. She smiled, then she took ahold of his face gently between her hands and pulled his lips to hers, not caring that everyone around was likely watching them. They would understand, and if they didn’t, Celebrían and Elrond were both far from caring. The kiss was deep and passionate, his arms tightened around her as it intensified, until finally they slowly pulled back and looked at each other, still holding each other tightly.

"The children. How are they?" Celebrían asked after a minute, searching his face.

Elrond paused. He had premeditated and rehearsed how he would tell her of Arwen’s choice, but now that the time had come, he didn’t know what to say.

"Oh no…" She read the answer anyway. In his eyes now she read the same pangs she saw there, even after thousands of years had passed, whenever he mentioned Elros. "Someone has chosen mortality."

Elrond nodded almost numbly. “Arwen…”

"Oh!" Celebrían looked down; she’d known this was a possibility when she’d said her good-byes to her children before leaving Middle-earth herself. But she would grieve with Elrond later, now was a time for reunions, for being strong for him again. "How are the twins? And Arwen is she happy? With the choice she made?"

"The twins are well; they stayed behind with your father. And Glorfindel." Elrond smiled. "He offered to stay and watch them too. And as for Arwen, I don’t think she could be happier any other way. She wedded Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King of Gondor, one of the  _Dúnedain_. Their love was deep and true, and yes, she was happy.”

"Then so we must be, for her." Celebrían said, firmly. 

"Yes…" Elrond nodded, still though, for him the pain of losing her was too near.

Celebrían tightened her hold on him, her arm around his waist and her fingers digging into the folds of his robes as they turned to face Galadriel as she approached.

When she got closer, Celebrían released Elrond for a brief moment and embraced her mother, before reaching for Elrond’s hand again.

"Mother! It is good to see you. I have missed you so much, these many years!"

"And we you, Celebrían, iell nin." Galadriel smiled warmly.

"Elrond, there is someone else you need to meet." Celebrían said, turning back to him, and she led a slightly bewildered Elrond to the crowd, which parted easily around them. After a few yards Celebrían stopped, and the face Elrond saw step out of the crowds made his jaw go slack in surprise.

"…Elros?" Elrond said softly, his heart racing as Celebrían let go of his hand and he took a step forward. "What, how…?"

Elros laughed and just moved forward to embrace his twin, who was almost entirely weeping at this point.

"But, I thought I would never see you again!" Elrond said. "HOW? You chose mortality?"

"I did." Elros said, nodding. "But when I reached Mandos the Valar gave me another choice, a choice that could only be given to someone whose twin was still an Elf." His eyes twinkled before becoming more serious again. "As twins, our souls are connected, even past death. So after I passed from life I was given a choice again. I had lived and died a mortal life, but if I wished, Mandos would permit me to be sent to the Undying Lands, to join you, when you arrived. And I chose yes this time. A mortal life was the life I wanted to live, but at a second chance to see you again, I didn’t refuse this time."

"I never imagined this," Elrond said, composing himself better now, but still with tears in his eyes, and he embraced Elros again. "I can’t believe you are here, I thought we had said good-bye for all eternity, I never imagined we would be so lucky!" ****  
  
“We have an eternity here, you’ll get sick of me soon enough!” Elros laughed.

"Never." Elrond smiled. He turned back to Celebrían and put an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her silver hair, not willing to let go of her any longer.

"And your wife?" Elrond asked his brother.

"She’s here too." He said, gesturing toward the direction in which they lived. "Her soul was connected with mine as well through our bond, and she was given this same choice by the Valar, though none of the rest of our line was, they were all to remain purely mortal." He grimaced slightly; everyone present knew the story of that all too well. "Anyway, when Celebrían arrived here we quickly became good friends."

"We were missing someone in common." Celebrían tightened her arm around Elrond’s waist again. "And he helped me a lot when I first came here; I needed it."

Soon Galadriel walked up behind them, returning from her own greetings, and her eyes widened. “Elros.” She said in surprise; she had never met him, but his resemblance to Elrond was unmistakable. She looked from Celebrían to Elrond in confusion.

“‘Tis a long story, Mother, one I shall tell you later.” Celebrían said.

"Lady Galadriel!" Elros bowed. "It is good to meet you!"

"As it is you." She smiled politely. Celebrían took her arm with the one of hers that wasn’t occupied by Elrond.

"Come! There is a welcome feast prepared for all of you, and many more faces worth meeting!" She began to lead the way off the shores. The four of them walked together, and Elrond glanced back at the company following him. Many of the Rivendell Elves had come, including ones closer to him, Erestor, and Lindir. Gandalf of course, the third Ring Bearer, was there, along with the Hobbits Bilbo and Frodo, and the company of Elves from Lorien that hadn’t stayed behind with Celeborn.   
  
Elrond turned back ahead and smiled, walking between his brother and his wife. He already felt his worries from his long years in Middle-Earth beginning to fade. Arwen had made her choice, and he would always miss her deeply, but she was happy. He had Celebrían back, he had Elros again, and soon enough he felt his sons would be likely to join him and leave Middle-Earth as well- along with their grandfather Celeborn, and Glorfindel, once they were done looking out for their sister.

After all the losses he had suffered in Middle-Earth, Elrond had made it here at last and finally, for the first time in a very long time, he felt complete.


	20. Lúthien and Vairë

### Something about your favorite moment  
Lúthien

This was really hard, for whatever reason. I have a few favorite moments, but nothing I could think of enough to write about. I think most of my favorite moments to imagine are things that aren’t even slightly touched on in the book; Melian and Thingol’s wedding, the births of Elrond and Celebrían’s children, Elrond and Celebrían’s wedding, Elrond and Celebrían being reunited in Valinor, when Celeborn gets to Valinor (WITH the twins, don’t even try to tell me they chose mortality,) Lúthien and Beren have some pretty good moments in the story. Arwen meeting Elros and Lúthien is great, too.  
( I imagine Elros devotes everything to taking care of Arwen and her family, after everything Elrond did for his descendants, and because he surely misses Elrond as much as Elrond misses him, and Arwen is a piece of him. And I imagine Lúthien and Arwen became close friends right away, despite their age difference. I think Beren and Aragorn got along really well, too.)  
  


But the one my brain wanted to write today was this, which I couldn’t not do because I always _want_ to write Lúthien and can’t think of anything.   
This is one of my favorite and least favorite moments (what isn’t, in the Silm, everything is like YAY HAPPY ENDING except 12 people died and 20 more kin are separated forever and we don’t even know what happened to some,) because in the chapter you’re rooting for Lúthien and Beren, but you also know what this means for Melian, and for Thingol.  
  
It is said of Melian that “none… were more skilled in songs of enchantment.” and from what we see of Lúthien, (putting Morgoth into an enchanted sleep, moving Mandos to pity the one and only time that ever happened,) she certainly seems to have that gift too.   
  
 ~~ _(you’d expect me to be able to write a happy fic for this prompt but nope.)_~~  
  
  


“Lúthien, Daughter of Melian. “ Vairë stood before her, as a sort of welcome, when Lúthien became aware of her surroundings.   
  
“Lady Vairë” Lúthien nodded her head in a bow, properly, before wondering what the proper Ainur greeting was, instead of the Elven one. Vairë smiled down at her anyway.  
  
“It is good to meet you, though under the circumstances less, so I am sorry for that.” Vairë told her kindly. “You remind me much of your mother.”  
  
“Did you know my mother?” She tried to remember everything Melian had ever told her about the Valar, but she couldn’t remember hearing as much about Vairë as many others.  
  
“Everyone knows Melian.” Vairë told her remotely. “Did you ever wonder why she served both Vána and Estë?”

  
Now that she thought about it, Lúthien realized she never  _had_ wondered; it was not common for Maiar to serve more than one Vala, though it was not unheard of. She shook her head.   
  
“Usually it is clear which Maia should serve where, as their natures line up with a certain Vala’s teachings. Your mother had many talents; she could have served nearly anyone. All were drawn to her singing, and Vána and Estë both begged her to dwell with them, and fill both their gardens with her song, so she did.”

Lúthien wondered why Vairë was telling her this; if she meant to distract Lúthien from her purpose, or if she knew it and was trying to help her. She looked searchingly into the Valier’s deep eyes, but she found no answers there.

“What can I do?”   
  
“I hear you take after your mother.” Vairë started, still cryptic, and Lúthien tilted her head, having no idea what she meant.   
  
“In some ways.” She answered. “What do you mean?”    
  
“No one below Eru, Ainu or child, could ever remain unaffected by Melian’s song. I hear you, too, have that gift, and you may be able to use it.”   
  
Lúthien thought of Morgoth, bent on destroying her and Beren, falling down from his throne in slumber as she sang. She was unsure, though, what power she could have over Mandos that would be of any use.   
  
“What do I need to do?”  
  
“Tell your story. Do what you came to; ask to be granted a reunion with Beren, and you may find what you seek. But beware! For this will not come without tribute,and in doing so you may find that you can never set foot on Valinor, or among the Ainur, ever again, and think about what you are giving up.”  
  
Lúthien closed her eyes tightly, but she knew what she must do.   
  
“You could be happy here, Lúthien.” Vairë told her softly.   
  
“Not without him.” Lúthien answered and turned her thoughts to Beren. With those words in her mind she entered the hall where Mandos sat, ready to sing him whatever it took to change his mind.  
  
_____________________________________________________  
  
I think Melian felt somewhat betrayed by Lúthien receiving mortality; by Lúthien, and by the Valar she had known who allowed the decision to happen. But I also think she understood, seeing the parallels between herself and Thingol, and I think she agreed with Lúthien’s decision in the end, even if caused them both much grief.


	21. Melian (Thingol)

### Something about your least favourite moment

 **Thingol’s Death.**  
  
This was the only time I actually cried reading the Silmarillion. Or, technically, Melian’s sadness after when Tolkien gives us a, for him, really tragic depiction of what she has to be sorrowful about.   
  
 ~~ _oh look at least my least favorite moment fic manages to be tragic, since even my favorite moment wasn’t very happy :p_~~

  
  
So this is a good place to mention my headcanon that Melian  _had_ to leave Middle-earth, she didn’t just run away because she didn’t care anymore, or didn’t want to, but she absolutely had no choice.   
  
Even if she left her people, which I don’t think she would have done if she could have helped it, she left Lúthien without saying good-bye to her now mortal daughter who she would _never see again?_ If she could have stayed, surely she would have taken the time to say good-bye to her, and possibly Beren and Dior, and Elwing and the twins.   
  
So the fact that she didn’t leads me to believe Melian couldn’t. She, like when Lúthien died because Beren had, for all intents and purposes died when Thingol did.   
  
I don’t think the Ainur know how to deal with grief. I mean, except for Melian, when would they ever need to? Most of their relationships (except slightly Olorin who has an obsession with befriending other races) are with each other, and the Ainur don’t have to worry about losing each other. So I don’t think they’re prepared to deal with loss in any way; they expect everything around them to last forever.   
So I think Melian has no worry, before it happens, that she might lose Lúthien or Thingol, and I think when it does, she has a really hard time dealing with it because she just doesn’t know how to. The elves are used to death, or at least prepared for it, but death isn’t really something that happens the same way among the Ainur.   
  
  
She was a powerful Maia, but she was only powerful enough to keep their people safe and keep the Girdle in place because of her union with Thingol. Without him, she didn’t have that “power over the substance of Arda” that it required:  
  
 _“For Melian was of the divine race of the Valar, and she was a Maia of great power and wisdom, but for love of Elwë Singollo she took upon herself the form of the Elder Children of Ilúvatar, and in that form she became bound by the chain and trammels of the flesh of Arda **…and in that form she gained a power over the substance of Arda, and by the Girdle of Melian was Doriath defended**  throughout long ages from evils without. But now Thingol lay dead **….and with his death a change came also upon Melian.”**    
  
_So I think that change wasn’t just sorrow, I think it was that she literally could not be what she was, the super powerful Queen, without him. She would have just been a regular Maia again, and that wouldn’t be anything against Morgoth or his Maiar.   
  
Also, she couldn’t rule without without Thingol.  The Ainur couldn’t rule, they were only supposed to guide the Children. So she could be his Queen and rule through him, she could give counsel and teach his people, but ultimately he made all the ruling decisions, and without him, Melian couldn’t take his place. Perhaps she would have wanted to; I think she cared about his people as much as he did, even if just because he did, but she knew she couldn’t stay and rule, that there was nothing left for her to do.   
  
 ___________________________________________________________  
_  
“I am going to watch the Dwarves work again today. They should be nearly finished.” Elu said, somewhat distantly, when the King and Queen had finished breakfast.   
  
“I wish you wouldn’t.” Melian answered automatically, though as she had been telling him constantly to stay away from the Silmaril for years now with no avail, her words had lost most of their meaning by now.   
  
“Hm.” Elu answered, distantly.   
  
“No good shall come of you keeping this Silmaril.” She recited for the thousandth time.  
  
“Yes, dear. All the same, I shall go today.” He kissed her cheek and rose, neither of them really listening to the other’s words.    
  
He left the chambers, and a moment later Melian rose and left as well, heading to her study.  
  
 _“I am sorry if I was rude.”_ Elu’s voice came in her head, and she couldn’t help smiling.   
  
 _“No worries, my love. It is not a new disagreement.”  
  
“Still. I will not even mention the necklace at dinner tonight, I promise.”  
  
“If you say so.” _Came her laughing response.  _“Have a nice day, dear.”  
  
“You too.” _He chuckled, and then he reached the smithies and fell silent. _  
  
_The rest of the day passed as usual for Melian, getting work done, meeting with a few counsel members on matters, and small successes with her students she was currently working with. Nearing time for the evening meal Melian and her students were reading as she absently hummed softly.  
  
  
Something was very wrong. Melian would have sensed the danger anyway, but suddenly she realized she could not reach Elu’s mind, and that made her more frantic than anything else. Only his mind no longer being in Middle-earth could make that happen, but that could not be, surely…  
  
The old volume she had been holding dropped to the floor and she fled the room without a word, her students staring wide-eyed after her,surprised by her sudden movement. **  
**  
Armed guards were marching towards the smithies of the Dwarves, intensifying Melian’s panic, as she did not bother to stop and ask anyone what had happened. Melian threw them out of her way as she rushed ahead, her elven heart pounding harder in her ears than it ever had in her memory.   
  
She reached the heavy doors to the smithies and cast them open with all her strength, re-lighting the extinguished torches by the doorway as she stepped inside the dark room.   
  
There on the floor, elegant grey and silver robes stained with his own dark red blood lay the King, collapsed where he had stood.  
 ****  
Melian’s cry reverberated through the caves and violently shook every wall in Menegroth, though she was not aware of anything but what was in front of her eyes.  
  
 _“Elu, please still be here…”_ She thought to him, but before she even reached him she knew he was not.   
She bent over him, shaking, ignoring the tears making their way down her cheeks, dimly aware of the guards entering the room behind her.   
  
“Go, find them! Leave us!” Melian commanded loudly, and without a word they obeyed, closing the door behind them. She should have known the moment she could not sense Elu’s mind that he was gone, but she hoped blindly that somehow he was only injured, or any other cause.   
  
“Elu,  _meleth minai nîn….”_ Melian whispered, brushing her hand across is face that was still slightly warm, but only slightly. She tamed his hair so that it lay as smooth as it always did. There was nothing to do about hiding the stains of blood, and for some reason this was what made her lose any composure she had left, and a sob choked her as her tears began to fall faster.   
  
Where was she when this had happened, he could have called for her, why hadn’t he? Had the Dwarves not given him the time?   
  
She did not have to wonder at the cause, at any rate. The cursed Silmaril, and the power it held over beings, had betrayed its bearer. If Elu had, indeed, gotten the chance to bear it at all.

She briefly cursed Aulë for his creation of the Dwarves in the first place; perhaps he had ruined the original Song by adding them. She cursed Fëanor for his cursed Silmarils, and every one of the Valar for not interfering yet.   
  
Melian sat beside him for as long as she felt she could, remembering everything that had been good during her life in Middle-earth with Elu Thingol. She knew that she could not stay here now. These were not her people. She loved them dearly, as much as Elu had. But they were not her people, they were his, and she could not rule alone without him- it was forbidden for the Ainur to rule, was it not?   
  
Though, either way, Melian knew she could not remain here long, not in this form. She had been tied to her elven form through her love for Elu. But now that he was gone, as well as Lúthien would be soon, this form was only tied to pain and loss. She could not wear it for much longer even if she wanted to. Even if she were to be able to simply keep wearing it, there was nothing she could do here. Her great powers here had mostly been tied to Arda through Elu; without him she couldn’t hold the Girdle, or do enough to protect the people inside it through any powers she had now, not against Morgoth and his armies, nor not against any armies. Unable to rule and unable to give aid of her powers, there was no reason to remain in Doriath.  
  
As soon as she realized it, it was a struggle to hold on any longer. She bid her last tearful good-bye to what had been Elu, pressing her lips one last time to his now cold forehead, and she rose.   
Holding tight to her form she slowly left the room, finding Mablung waiting just outside with the Silmaril. He offered it to her, but she would not touch it.  
  
One look at her had told him all he seemed to need to know, and in a hollow and dying voice she told him all she could, her last counsel. Mablung bowed one last time, and when he rose again she was already gone.   
  
Her elven form dissipated, she rushed unseen from the caves and the forests that had been her home, bidding them a half good-bye with any mental presence she had left, silently apologizing to Lúthien for not saying good-bye to her, and she was gone.

__________________________________________________________  
  
 ~~ _Edit: Ooh I just realized I had Melian command them to go after the dwarves. I_ definitely _don’t think she wanted the dwarves slaughtered at all. I don’t think she was really thinking at all either, she just wanted to be alone with Thingol, and she sent the soldiers after the dwarves to find out which one was guilty, and what exactly had happened. I’m sure she was angry, but I doubt she was vengeful towards the entire race of dwarves, just whichever one ran a sword through her husband. But the armies had just seen their **King die**  and their normally very composed Queen distraught with a grief they felt themselves, so that probably influenced their actions, and what they took from that command._~~


	22. Glorfindel

### Something you find funny

Glorfindel finds his sword in the hoard of weapons from Gondolin that the dwarves found, while they were at Rivendell. He was enraged and asked for it back, but they would never have willingly handed it over to an elf, as Dwalin had claimed it. 

He tries to get it back and finds out dwarves are tricky, but wins in the end.   
  
Thorin wouldn’t let them delay leaving because Dwalin was missing some elven sword, and he was not amused that that was how they had spent their night, so in the end they left without the sword and Glorfindel has his old sword back.  
  
  
  
Elrond frowned at Glorfindel when the blond elf sheepishly opened the door to his study.

“My lord, you wishd to see me?” He said.

“Ah, Glorfindel. I hear you gave our guests some trouble?” Elrond raised his eyebrows.

“Well, er…it was my sword!”

“Yes, of this I am aware.” Elrond shook his head. “And how did you end up getting it back?

“Well…” Glorfindel blushed. “There were uh, competitions, with the dwarves. I won, fair and square, but they refused to surrender it, and I believe it went missing, but they were really in a hurry to leave, you know, with Saruman and Lady Galadriel here, so they seem to have left without it.”

“Ah, and I am  _certain_  that was an accident?” Elrond asked.   
  
“I see no other explanation.” Glorfindel answered shamelessly. “Really, it is a good thing I found it after they had left, it would be a terrible deed to let this sword go to waste more than it already has.”

“And if the dwarves ever end up back here, wishing for it?”

“I fought a Balrog with this sword! You think I can not take out a dwarf?”   
  
“Glorfindel!”

“Sorry, my lord…”   
  
“If you see a dwarf in Imladris again and you can not behave yourself, kindly avoid them. Otherwise, it is not my problem, I suppose.” Elrond shook his head. “But Glorfindel, what kind of competitions did you have with the dwarves?”  
  
The blond elf suddenly blushed deep scarlet and started backing away. “Er…. simple stuff, really. If that is all I really must be going.”   
  
Elrond made a grab for him as he shot out the door, but Glorfindel was halfway down the hall in a second, and Elrond growled. Now he _had_  to know.   
  
He did not have to wait long, though, for a confused Elladan and Elrohir had just appeared around the corner, in the way Glorfindel had just run through.

“Adar? What did you do to Glorfindel?” Elrohir asked.   
  
“Do you know what it was the dwarves made him do?” Elrond asked as an answer.  
  
“Oh.” Elrohir’s eyes sparkled.   
  
“That.” Elladan giggled.  
  
“We saw the whole thing, but of course he didn’t know we were there.” Elrohir answered.  
  
“We almost fell out of the tree we were in laughing so hard, more than once.” Elladan added. “So, you didn’t hear it from us…”  
  
  


Glorfindel had no interest in talking to the dwarves, and when he had to pass their fire he tried his best to stick to the shadows and slide by.   
  
Something caught his eye, though, and he had to stop. The dwarves had found swords, he knew, in a troll hoard, but there was a particular one there that he had not expected to see again.   
  
“Oy! That’s mine!” He jumped out of the shadows and made a grab for the sword in the bald dwarf’s hand.   
  
“You wish!” The bald dwarf said jumping up, with surprisingly quick reflexes for a dwarf, and moving the sword out of his reach.   
  
“I mean it! In Gondolin, it was my sword!”   
  
“Then why did you abandon it?”   
  
“I died! But I took a Balrog with me.” He said, proudly.   
  
The dwarves all roared with disbelieving laughter, and Glorfindel flushed with anger.   
  
“You don’t look dead.” The fattest one said.   
  
“No, no, he kind of does. Look how pale he is. Hairless, too. And skinny.” One who seemed to be called Gloin answered.  
  
“I was reborn. Re-embodied by the Valar for my deeds.”   
  
“You expect us to believe that?” The one with the sword said again, and the rest laughed.   
  
“If you knew who you were talking to…” Glorfindel drew himself to full height.   
  
“…It’d still be our sword. Finders, keepers!” Dwalin grinned maliciously.   
  
“Now Dwalin, be nice, we are guests of Lord Elrond and he has treated us well…” The old one started, but he was cut off by jeers from the rest, and Glorfindel drew his sword, the one he had never liked as much as his old Gondolin one.   
  
“I can take on all twelve of you drunk stunted people at once if I have to.” He hissed.  
  
“Deal.” Dwalin said.   
  
“Er, what is a deal?” Glorfindel briefly wondered how many centuries Elrond’s anger would last if he did slay all twelve of his guests. Might be worth the risk.  
  
“You duel all twelve of us and you can have your sword back.”  
  
“Deal!” Glorfindel said quickly.   
  
“But!” Dwalin added. “You must take us on two at a time, since you think we are “stunted people” and must not be much of a threat to tall elf-lords like yourself, and every time you lose you must also lose an article of clothing.”   
  
“Fine.” He ground his teeth. At least it was late enough most Rivendell elves were in bed or in the Hall of Fire, and they likely wouldn’t be around to witness this.   
  
“And we pick which items.”  
  
“FINE.” Glorfindel roared.   
  
This didn’t seem like it would be a hard task though, at the time. The dwarves were small, and drunk, and Glorfindel was a centuries old and trained warrior.   
  
But the dwarves, it seemed, did not play fair.  
  
Even with the old dwarf, Balin, saying he wanted no part of this, and insisting that the youngest three, Kili, Fili, and Ori, had no part either, that still left nine.

Glorfindel did manage to take out Gloin and Oin to the point that they surrendered, but that’s when they stopped even pretending to play fair.   
  
If he ever managed to disarm a dwarf another not involved in the fight would immediately throw him another weapon, and Glorfindel was again seriously wondering whether it might be worth risking Elrond’s wrath to kill or at least injure a few of these dwarves.   
  
Glorfindel began to realize he really should have demanded something from them, too, in the rules of this game. Stupid dwarves. He had stayed as far away from them as possible all his life, how was he to know their tricks? Soon he had lost all his clothes but the leggings and a thin shirt he wore under his robes, and was no longer having any doubts about whether or not he should injure any dwarves.  
  
Last it was Bombur’s turn, along with Bofur who was so drunk he could hardly walk and thus was hardly a competitor, and Glorfindel was sure it would be easy to outmaneuver a dwarf of Bombur’s size. But instead Bombur just gave a cry and threw all of his weight at Glorfindel, knocking out his breath and pinning the elf beneath his surprisingly heavy mass for one so short.   
  
The dwarves roared their loudest cheer yet, as Bombur stole Glorfindel’s current sword and claimed he won, before the elf had even regained the breath to protest.   
  
“We claim your shirt then, too.” Dwalin called, and Glorfindel threw it at him, making them all guffaw.   
  
“Fine but I played your game, I get the sword now.” Glorfindel stood barefoot and huffed, knowing full well that his current attire, or lack of, was likely ruining his attempt at being intimidating.   
  
“You didn’t win, you don’t get your sword back!” Bofur called, and then promptly fell off the log he was sitting on.  
  
“You did not say I had to win, you said I had to play.” Glorfindel said tightly with effort.   
  
“You elves think you’re so tricky, don’t you?” Bombur wheezed with laughter. “Besides, we said you had to duel all  _twelve_ of us, and four of us didn’t even play.”  
  
“YOU DISHONEST, MISERABLE, STUNTED LITTLE-“   
  
“You might want to be quieter, lad.” Dwalin sneered. “Who knows what elves will come to witness this if they hear you.”  
  
Glorfindel lunged for the dwarf, but missed him.   
  
“This is not the end of this!”  He shouted, only slightly quieter than before. “Give me my robes so I can leave.”   
  
“Not the deal…” Dwalin told him as seriously as possible.   
  
“I SWEAR TO ERU ILUVATAR YOU WILL REGRET THIS.” Glorfindel turned and marched away, giving up on dignity.   
  
Glorfindel, luckily, did not run into anyone on his way to Elrond’s store of herbs except for one shocked young maid servant who dropped the basket she held and ran when he growled at her. Once in Elrond’s store he borrowed a cloak he found, which was better than nothing, at least. He returned to the dwarves fire, and while they were laughing themselves sick over what had just happened, dumped about a year’s supply of sleeping potions in their pile of ale and returned to the shadows, waiting.   
  
It didn’t take long, a few sips and they started dropping like flies, and Glorfindel moved in to steal back his robes and swords.   
  
“I should cut off their beards…” He growled, but resisted. He settled for using his old sword to cut a single braid of Dwalin’s beard and tossing it in the fire. Though it was hardly noticeable in the mass of dwarf hair, and Glorfindel considered having to cut off his hand after touching it, surely the dwarf would notice, and Glorfindel almost wished he would still be around to witness that.  
  
Instead he swept away as quickly as he could, knowing their leader would be back soon, and resolved that any dwarf of this company that he ever met outside of Elrond’s house would never even know what hit him.


	23. Celebrían and Elrond

### Something about your favorite place

 **Imladris**  
  
TA: 115  
  
  


From the Lord and Lady’s chambers, in the most secluded and elegant part of the House, it was possible, whether from the gardens at the back or the large balcony at the front, to view all of the Valley of Imladris, especially on a clear day. Celebrían now wandered from the gardens over to the balcony now, watching the evening sun shower everything with deep shades of gold and orange.  
  
When she had first come here with her mother all those years ago, before the end of the Second Age, Imladris had been a refuge more than anything else. It surely had natural beauty, plentifully. The waterfalls were as stunning as any, the cliffs and river were always beautiful, and it had certainly looked a place worthy of a dwelling for elves. It hadn’t had any of the homeliness it had now though, back then. The House was built to be a shelter that would last; the men and families that lived there were there to fight or to survive, not to thrive, as they would in later days.  
  
When the war ended and Elrond returned to Imladris with his host, they had begun building more. The project to rebuild the Valley into a truly wonderful dwelling became a helpful way for everyone to recover from the war in other ways too, to move on. The Valley became rich and homely. The House was now decorated with statues and elegant architecture, and fountains were added all around, highlighting the natural water flowing through the Valley. The trees and gardens grew faster and more lush than ever, and the elves living there became truly joyful again. There was always song, mirrored in the flowing of the rivers and waterfalls, and the Valley became everything the other elven dwellings throughout the ages had been, and more.   
  
The elves living in Imladris had come from all over, and many brought different bits to it. There were bits of forests, of cities, and of the sea. The House’s alliance with men and other races brought pieces of their history and culture in, as well.  
  
Recently, when Celebrían married Elrond, she had set to work bringing pieces of the Golden Wood. With the help of the Elessar she had inherited from her mother, combined with Elrond’s power of Vilya, during her first spring there, life in the Valley flourished more than ever before, and the trees grew even taller, the gardens ever lusher. Vines intertwined with architecture and the fountains that punctuated the House, and birds and butterflies were more abundant than ever, even in the winter months.   
  
 ”Everything looks perfect.” Elrond said behind her, and they watched a group of elflings playing joyfully below.   
  
“Everything is perfect.” Celebrían answered and wrapped her arms around him.   
  
“You know, I only married you so I could live in Imladris.” She told him seriously.   
  
“Is that so?” Elrond laughed. “I would believe it. I suppose it is lucky I was available, then.”   
  
“It is true!” Celebrían smiled. “My father may never have approved of another match with someone within the Valley.”   
  
“ _That_ I believe.” Elrond told her, and she laughed. “However, your mother never would have allowed him to approve of a marriage with someone you did not truly love, so I can’t believe your claim.”   
  
“I suppose you are right, there may have been other motives involved.” She sighed, and he grinned.   
  
“Melon le, Celebrían.”   
  
“Melon le.” She murmured, as the sun finished sinking below the horizon and they turned back inside from the darkened Valley.


	24. Galadriel

### Something about the time after the story ends

**Galadriel finally gets to go home.**

  
  


Valinor even without the light of the Two Trees, was as beautiful as any memory Galadriel had of it, even before the mist around the ship cleared.   
  
There was a sort of peace that washed over her as she felt the last of her sea longing die away and she felt, at last, home. But it was dimmed by the sorrow at the separation from Celeborn, and though she stood as silent as the still air around them, tears streamed down her face.   
  
Perhaps her real separation from Celeborn had come when she bid farewell to Lórien and he remained, but unless it was simply her imagination, leaving the circles of that world her mind felt more empty of his presence than it had then.  
  
A few feet away from her she saw Elrond in his opposite emotions, searching desperately for Celebrían again. She heard his cry of relief when he, it would seem, found her. Elrond turned to her, ‘ _She is well’_  he whispered, before noticing her tears and stopping. Hesitantly he embraced her.   
  
“You are not alone without him.” He said softly, so only she among the crowded deck could hear. “If you think she will leave your side for a moment then you have forgotten her.”   
  
Galadriel forced a grateful smile. Her son-in-law was right; she had Celebrían back now.   
  
At length the two of them moved closer to the rail to watch for her. She didn’t come in to sight until the ship had docked and they reached the sand of the shores, and then it was all Galadriel could do to hold back and let Elrond and Celebrían have their reunion as her daughter ran in to Elrond’s arms and the rest of the world was lost to them. But she did, standing a small distance away and waiting.   
  
“Galadriel.” A soft voice said at her shoulder, a familiar voice.   
  
“Melian!” She turned and embraced the Maia fiercely.“Oh, it is good to see you.”   
  
“And you.” Melian pulled back and smiled, but Galadriel knew her well enough to see the lines of sorrow across Melian’s fair face that had not been there at their last meeting.   
  
“How are you, are you well?” She asked.  
  
“Well enough.” Melian laughed softly. “And you, Celeborn?”   
  
“Well enough.” Galadriel told her. “Celeborn remains in Middle-earth for a time, with our grandsons.”   
  
Melian nodded. “I want you to know I am proud of everything you did in Middle-earth. With Nenya, with Lórien, against Sauron, with the Ring. You did well.” Melian told her, and Galadriel could only smile her thanks at her old mentor. “And do not worry, Celebrían is doing well. She found help and healing here from those around her.”  
  
“You?” Galadriel looked into her eyes again, recognizing what Melian meant from the way she spoke.   
  
“Yes, I helped her. She found me easier to talk to than your kin, when she first arrived.”   
  
“Thank you…” Galadriel hardly knew what to say, and glanced back at her daughter. “Thank you.”   
  
“I know the pain of losing a daughter. I would not let that happen to you.”   
  
When Galadriel looked back at Melian she saw that there were tears in the Maia’s eyes. She opened her mouth to try to explain her thanks, to tell Melian she was sorry for how things worked out in the First Age, to express everything Melian had done for her then and now, but before she could speak Melian shook her head.   
  
“Go to her.” She turned Galadriel around, and Galadriel saw Celebrían heading to them now.   
  
“Celebrían…” Galadriel flew to her and embraced her like she would never let go.  
“It is good to see you well.” She whispered through her tears. 

“I missed you, Naneth.” Celebrían answered, her tears of joy mirroring Galadriel’s.   
  
“And we you.” Galadriel brushed back Celebrían’s silver hair, shining as brightly as it ever had.   
  
"Adar?" Celebrían asked.   
  
"He is well." She smiled. "You know he will not leave Middle-earth easily, and certainly not without your sons."

Celebrían grinned and embraced her again, and then Galadriel turned back to Melian, but she was gone without a trace.   
  
“We will see her again, soon I expect.” Celebrían told her, taking her arm. “She is not one for attending Elven feasts these days, though. Come, there are many more greetings left!”  
  
Galadriel smiled and allowed Celebrían to lead her and Elrond off the shores.   
  
“Finrod is waiting anxiously, but he did not end up able to come down to greet the ship.”   
  
“Finrod is here?”   
  
“Yes.” Celebrín smiled, knowing what the news meant to her.   
  
She began telling Elrond of those he would meet tonight, how Eärendil and Elwing would not be there, would let him come on his own terms, and then Galadriel stopped listening.   
  
Suddenly she realized Elrond was right. Celebrían would be with her frequently, she would have Melian to visit, she would see her parents soon, and Finrod! Finrod was here, too. One day in the not too distant future Celeborn would join her here, and she was not alone, she could still find peace here until then.


	25. Thingol and Melian

### Something about the time before the story begins

But the Silmarillion begins before the beginning of time? I think I’ll go with before the elves start really doing anything, because I can’t think of anything to write for the Song or before.

  
When Thingol meets Melian.   
  
People always see this as non-con, like Melian saw Thingol and captivated him and refused to let him go.  But that’s definitely not the impression I got when reading it.   
  
  
  
Firstly, my headcanon is that I think Melian knew something of what was going to happen. I think she foresaw this part of her fate, being in Middle-earth for quite some time, and that’s why she went in the first place. I don’t think she knew the specifics of where, or that she’d become Queen by marrying a King or that they’d have a daughter or anything much of plans for Doriath, just generally, she knew something would tie her to Middle-earth. So when she went to Middle-earth, that was why.   
  
So Thingol’s wandering through the woods and hears this beautiful song and is drawn to it, and he is “filled with wonder and desire.” And so far Melian has no idea he has heard her. So he wanders around and when he finally finds her, he sees this unimaginable creature in her spirit form, singing, birds and nature growing all around her. He sees “the light of Aman in her face” and in that, he loses his strong desire to see the light of the Two Trees again as he had before, now more he desires to stay with her.

 _“Greatly though he had desired to see again the light of the Trees, in the face of Melian he beheld the light of Aman as in an unclouded mirror, and in that light he was content”_ __  
  
“…being filled with love, Elwe came to her and took her hand, and straightaway a spell was laid on him, so that long years….”

 

It does say “ **Spell was laid on him,”** not, “she laid a spell on him.   
  
It could be that their meeting set that spell into motion, not that Melian set it on him. Besides, we already know that their union was foreseen:  
  


_”Melian alone of all those spirits assumed a bodily form, not only as a raiment but as a permanent habitation in form and powers like to the bodies of the Elves. This she did for love of Elwe; and it was permitted, **no doubt because this union had already been foreseen in the beginning of things”**_ _**  
** _

With their meeting, I don’t see anything sinister in Melian entrapping him at all. Where else in the story is she ever like that? Besides, later on, she knew what Thingol needed to do, told him not to do things, and watched him do them anyway. If she had or could exercise some power like that over him, wouldn’t she have used them where he and Lúthien were both concerned?   
  
I imagine Maiar have to know enough vague things about elves to understand that elves aren’t going to be pleased with just being randomly put under spells without their consent, I think that was part of the few things Eru would have told them before even descending into Arda. She was in love with him too, I think, (I think she took an elven form there, can you “take the hand” of a Maia in a spirit form? And I think she took the elven form because he was there) and I don’t see that as any kind of sinister wanting to enchant him, she didn’t have to enchant him, he had already been “filled with love for her” at that point, and she could surely tell. So if she already loves him and he already loves her before the 300 year spell even starts, I just don’t see her planning to or wanting to explain to her love that “oh yeah I put a spell on you, so all your people fear you are gone now” as their first conversation.   
  
Either way, afterwards, when he learned of his people being forsaken by him I’m sure he was upset and she was sorry, but if that was truly the reason then there was little he could say against it and he wouldn’t have blamed her for it.   
  
 _(If you must believe the spell was laid by Melian, my alternate theory is just that three hundred years may be a lot to an elf at this point in time, but I think the Ainur see time differently; it wouldn’t have seemed like so much to her. I think she knows he was planning to go to Valinor and has people waiting for him and all, but that isn’t her concern because she knows, has foreseen, that his fate is to stay. She isn’t getting in the way of his fate; she’s shaping it, helping him into who he is supposed to be for the events of the First Age that she knows of from Ilúvatar’s mind to take shape.)_  
  
Their meeting is a lot like Lúthien and Beren. Lesser-being stumbling upon a heavenly woman in the woods, and falling in love, and being under a spell? (And it says all over Lúthien and Beren’s meeting that he was under a spell, but it never says exactly that Lúthien cast it, at least not on purpose.) That sounds more like Thingol and Melian are parallels of Beren and Lúthien than they would be Aredhel and Eöl.  
  
Side note, when she is in her elven form through him her power was increased because they were tied to Arda, through her love for Elu Thingol. And he was greater too, through his union with her, because he leant her power and she lent him power.

 _“Great power Melian leant to Thingol, who was himself great among the Eldar…”_  
     “His people gathered about him in joy, and they were amazed, for fair and noble as he had been, now he appeared as if it were a lord of the Maiar, his hair as grey silver, tallest of the Children of Illúvatar….”  
  
  
     “For Melian was of the divine race of the Valar, and she was a Maia of great power and wisdom, but for the love of Elwë Singollo she took upon herself the form of the Elder Children of Illúvatar, and in that form she became bound by chain and trammels of the flesh of Arda… **and in that form she gained a power over the substance of Arda…”  
**

So basically they were powerful on their own, but together ridiculously powerful, especially Melian.  
  
Because then there is:

_“Soon afterwards Ungoliant fled from the north and came into the realm of King Thingol, and a terror of darkness was about her; but by the power of Melian she was stayed.”_

MELKOR himself could not contain Ungoliant. He wouldn’t give her the Silmarils and she attacked him so badly he had to call for multiple Balrogs to help him out, and he was terrified of her when she was consuming the light of the trees in Valinor. And he’s the most powerful of the Valar, most powerful being besides Eru! He can’t control her, but Melian comes along and does. That is not just normal Maiar power, not for the Maia who serves the healer and the ever-young.  
  
___________  
  
Under the shadows of the forests he so loved Elwë noticed that something felt different than usual. Were the trees greener? More alive?   
  
He realized that there were definitely more birds, and they were making strange and beautiful sounds he had never heard before.   
  
He grinned, watching them, and followed a flock of nightingales drifting through the trees.   
  
And then he heard something else.   
  
A hauntingly beautiful, divine song that spread a warmth and peace through his very core, making him feel more alive and awake than ever before. 

All Elwë knew was that he must follow it and find the source. A nearly consuming longing and desire filled him, though his heart sang ever more with the music as he drew closer.  
  
There were no words to describe the sight that met his eyes. A beautiful entity that he recognized must be a Maia, based on what the elves knew of the Ainur, drifted before him in a meadow. All around her were flowers of bright colors and scents he had never seen before, and birds flew in small flocks around her, listening to or joining in with her song.  
  
Everywhere else there was the dark of all of Middle-earth, but her face shone bright and more beautiful to him than even the light of Laurelin and Telperion had been.  
  
Elwë felt he could stand there and watch her for the rest of eternity and never wish to leave.   
  


When she finally noticed him and turned her attention to Elwë he felt her draw a quick breath, though her song never faltered. She stayed motionless for a long time, watching him, perceiving his mind, before either of them moved. Then, though her song still stayed steady, she began to change form before his eyes, now appearing as an elf.

Elwë had no words to describe her in her spirit form, but he found he had not many more in her ethereally beautiful elven form, either. Hair as dark as the shadows of twilight swept around her pale, hauntingly fair face, and her dark eyes were fixed on him, her mouth open in her song, and her dark lips curved ever so slightly towards a smile of wonder.  
  
His breath caught, watching her. It felt like a dream, though too perfect to be anything his mind might have conjured.   
  
She opened her mind, just slightly, to him, and Elwë wondered at everything he saw and felt. She was wonderful, not just because she was a Maia of such beauty, but because of all he sensed in her being, her kindness and gentleness, her caring, all she was. 

He stepped towards her, though he felt so clumsy in her presence, and stretched out a hand towards her. She mirrored his movement and her face curved into a smile full of joy and delight, a smile so beautiful it could have taken his breath, had he any left.   
  
She never stopped singing as he moved forward. Flowers bloomed brightly all around her, vividly green grasses grew taller under her feet, trees grew greener and thicker, and birds wove in and out of her tune, swirling around her as they flew through the foliage springing into existence.   
  
The moment his hand touched hers the feeling that it was a dream passed. There was no way a dream could ever be this real.   
  
Words did not seem needed, which was good because Elwë was certain his mind and lips were unable to form any. She interlaced her fingers with his, still continuing her song in her clear, unimaginably beautiful voice, her grey eyes never leaving his.  
  
When she stopped they paused in the silence for a few long moments, and then he carefully reached out to touch her face. When his palm brushed her cheek, his thumb caressing her gently, she closed her eyes and sighed blissfully, shivering slightly, leaning into his touch.  
  
He could not imagine how such a creature as she could be so affected by his touch, but she appeared to be. When he trailed his thumb across her lips next she ran her free hand through his hair, gently pulling his face to hers, pressing her lips against his. She kissed him gently at first, hesitant in case he were to want to stop or pull away, but then more deeply as he did not and his hand moved to her back and she moved closer against him, the warmth of her body curving into his.   
  
While they kissed they opened their minds farther to each other, and Elwë was nearly overwhelmed with amazement at what he saw, even just this brief glimpse into a Maia’s mind.

As they connected he could feel the immense power resonating inside her and felt a shiver run down his spine, but he was not in the least bit afraid of her; he knew he did not need to be.   
  
When they looked at each other again Elwë felt he had seen enough to know thoroughly who she was, and he knew that he loved her entirely, but he realized he knew nothing of her, really. Not even what to call her.  
  
“My name is Melyanna.” She answered his unasked question in a clear and mesmeric voice.   
  
“I am Elwë.” He responded, his own voice rough and unimpressive by comparison.  
  
He wanted to say more, but he did not know what to say when they had exchanged no more words than just names. What could he say to a Maia? He parted his lips to speak, but faltered. He wanted to tell her of his love, to ask her to be his Queen. But could he?   
  
“Yes.” She again answered his unasked question. “I will be, I would love to be.” Another of those breathtaking smiles crossed her face, and Elwê was lost in it, hoping he would never surface.


	26. Galadriel, Celeborn, and Celebrían

### Something about childhood

I wish Galadriel and Celeborn were my parents, mostly.  
  
I feel like they would have been a really close family. Elves always cherish their children greatly, anyway, and Celebrían was their only child, so just based on that they would have been close. But also, I think Galadriel and Celeborn had both lost so many kin in the First Age that they were even closer to each other and to Celebrían than they otherwise would have been, because they were all each other had. I think Galadriel and Celeborn would have been losing hope for a peaceful future after the War of Wrath, and then during the Second Age they began to hope for peace, had Celebrían, and were truly happy again.   
  
And I think for Celebrían it was hard being the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn simply because they were so prestigious and high in elven-culture and so  _good_ at everything, so it put a lot of pressure on Celebrían as their daughter.  But, being their daughter, she was also ultimately good at everything, so in the end she was fine.   
  
Galadriel and Celebrían, I think, would have been really close, especially as she got older. And I think Celebrían was, along with Galadriel, one of the few who would always bring out Celeborn’s soft side through his more seriousness.   
  
  
  
 _“Galadriel?”_ Celeborn called silently from outside Celebrían’s room.  
  
 _“Come in quietly, she’s asleep.”_ Came her answer, and he opened the door, silently closing it behind him.  
  
He smiled at the sight; Celebrían was curled up on Galadriel’s lap in the armchair in her room, fast asleep. He moved silently across the room, settling on the armchair, and gently kissed Galadriel’s brow when she looked up at him.   
  
 _She looks so peaceful._  He gently brushed a wave of silver hair out of Celebrían’s face.   
  
 _“She does. Did you ever think, during the First Age, that things would ever be this good for us again?”  
  
“No.” _He smiled, sadly. _“So few of our kin survived the First Age… I just hope that we never have to go through that again. Or that if we do, she does not.”  
  
“So do I.” _She sighed.  _“I worry it will end, and we’ll be back to something terrible like_ _ _Helcaraxë_ or the War of Wrath.”  
  
“Those days are over, meleth.”  
  
“I know.” _She squeezed his hand gently when he took hers comfortingly.  _  
  
_“Ada?” Celebrían murmured, waking up.  
  
“Yes, go to sleep Brí.”   
  
“No, you said you’d tell me a story! You promised, because you missed last night!” Celebrían tried desperately to wake herself up, and Celeborn chuckled.  _  
  
_“Please?” She begged, sitting up.  
  
“Of course.” He told her. “Perhaps a short one, though. What do you want to hear about? How about Beren and Lúthien? The Sun and the Moon? Thingol and Melian?”   
  
“Can you tell me about Elwing and Eärendil?”   
  
“Where did you learn of Elwing and Eärendil, darling?” Galadriel asked her.   
  
“They just mentioned them in history recently and I wondered. You can take out the scary parts like you do with the other stories.” Celebrían offered, and Celeborn laughed.   
  
He and Galadriel tucked her in and Celeborn began the story, but Celebrían fell asleep before Celeborn even got to the elves settling in Sirion.  
  
“ôl melui” Celeborn whispered and kissed her forehead.  _Sweet dreams._


	27. Melian, Thingol, and Lúthien

### Something about parents

 **Melian and Thingol.** _  
_It couldn’t have been easy raising the first and only half-elf half-Maia.

_(Lúthien is about human equivalent to four, maybe would that be 10 or so for her? Really little, anyway.)_   
  


“She didn’t mean it.” Thingol told Melian. “Elflings throw tantrums all the time; they never mean the things they say. Lúthien loves you.”   
  
“I know.” Melian answered with a sigh. “I do.” It had only bothered her so much because Lúthien had hit right on her biggest insecurity as a mother: that being a Maia somehow made it less possible for her to be as fit to raise a child than if she were of a race that was meant to have children.  
  
“You’re a wonderful mother.” He told her. “Besides, this is Lúthien! Who else could manage a half-Maia child?”  
  
He brought a half smile from her with that.   
  
“You are right; I know. Let us sleep, I know it will all be better in the morning.” She kissed his cheek and blew out the candles, but Lúthien’s words still rang through her head.   
  
 _“I hate you!”_ She had shouted.  _“You’re the worst mother ever, I wish I weren’t here and I wish I wasn’t half-Maia in the first place!”_  
  
It had started just as an everyday argument as any child might have, and Lúthien had always been wilder than normal elflings. She had been arguing all night, that she didn’t want to take a bath, or wear a certain nightgown, or go to bed on time, but it was when Melian mentioned her lessons for the next day (including Maiar teachings, making them longer than the lessons for her elf-peers,) that Lúthien had really gotten upset, and Melian had been forced to let Thingol take over.   
  
  
  
She had just begun to drift off when a small knock on the door awoke her and Lúthien ran in, tears streaming down her face.   
  
Melian had picked her up in an instant.   
  
“Lúthien, dear, what happened; what’s wrong?”   
  
“I didn’t mean it, Nana, I’m sorry!” She hiccuped. “I didn’t, I promise!”   
  
“Oh honey, I know.” Melian hugged her closer and Lúthien went on hurriedly.   
  
“I had this nightmare you were gone and… and I realized I never…I love you Nana, you’re the best mother anyone had ever.” She finished tearfully against her mother’s shoulder.   
  
“I love you too, Lúthien. More than anything.” Melian whispered comfortingly, rocking her, and Lúthien squeezed her tighter. “And never worry; I am never going anywhere.”   
  
“Promise?”   
  
“Of course I promise.” Melian kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair.  
  
“Ada, can I sleep here tonight?” Lúthien turned her face towards Thingol, who was watching them quietly.   
  
“Sure.” He smiled and leaned to kiss her as well.  
  
 _She asks you because she knows you’ll never deny her anything._ Melian mentally laughed to him.   
  
 _She’s right._ He grinned.   
  
They settled Lúthien between them. She was still clinging to Melian, which was different, as she usually clung closer to her father when she had nightmares.  
  
“I love you, Nana.” She whispered again, her fingers tangled in Melian’s long hair.   
  
“I love you too, dear.”  
  
“And I never wished I wasn’t part Maia, I love being part Ainur.” Lúthien informed her, murmuring against Melian.  
  
“Good.” Melian smiled.  
  
“I don’t really mind learning extra things.” She was starting to sound sleepy, now that she was through her list of apologies. “But will you teach me more singing and powers instead of history? Will you sing now?”   
  
“We shall see, history is important too.” Melian said gently. “What do you want to hear now?”   
  
“Make up a new song.” Lúthien requested, and Melian laughingly agreed, though it was really just her own variation on a very old elven one that she ended up singing. It did not take long for Lúthien to be sound asleep.   
  
 _Feel better?_ Elu asked her mentally.  
  
 _I wish it hadn’t taken this for me to, but yes, much._ Melian smiled tenderly at Lúthien in her arms.    
  
 _Good. She was right, you know, when she said that you were the best mother anyone has ever had.  
  
_ Melian rolled her eyes.   
  
 _Being a Maia has nothing to do with it; no one can comfort her or teach her or make her laugh like you can.  
  
Except you. _Melian added.   
  
 _Maybe._  
  
 _Definitely. Now do I have to sing you to sleep too so I can have the last word on this?_ Her eyes sparkled and he almost laughed out loud, but stopped himself in case he woke up Lúthien.   
  
 _No. Good night, meleth._ He kissed them each on the cheek and wrapped an arm around them both.   
  
 _Good night._ Melian smiled peacefully, following her family into sleep.


	28. Thranduil and Legolas

### Something about death

 **(MAJOR SPOILERS FOR IF YOU ARE READING MY STORY “THE LONELY ELVENKING” ON FANFICTION.NET BECAUSE THIS IS THE SAME HEADCANON THAT WHOLE UNFINISHED STORY IS ABOUT)**  
  
Okay so I believe Thranduil’s wife didn’t really die, but that he believes her dead. (Because I want him to have a happy ending but apparently I’m also cruel and I like to make him suffer.)  
  
I believe the way she fell ill was that Sauron cursed her by a poisoned bite from a giant spider while he was first taking up residence in Thranduil’s forests. Thranduil rushed her back to Greenwood and his best healers, and sent for Elrond’s help since Elrond was the most skilled healer in Middle-earth, but nothing they could do could help.   
When there was no hope of her survival if she stayed in Middle-earth, they ended up sending her West, hoping that getting to Valinor in time could save her, whether by the Valar or the Maiar or just the help of being in Valinor.   
  
However, something went wrong and Thranduil never got the news that he was supposed to, of her getting there safely, so he believes something terrible must have happened, and he believes the worst. Because after all he’s seen, he’s afraid to get his hopes up over such a situation and end up more hurt.   
  
I named her “Elarinya.” (Morning star)  
  
_____  
  
“Thranduil?” Elrond asked tentatively.  The Elvenking had just returned to his study after a ride in the forest, and it did not seem to have calmed him as it usually did.  
  
“We should have heard word from the messengers of her arrival two weeks ago.” was all Thranduil gave in response, before turning to stare unseeingly out a small window in is study.  
  
“If something happened to the ship on the journey, Círdan would know, he would have sent word…”   
  
Elrond quieted at the harsh look Thranduil gave him.

“There is hope.”   
  
“I do not have any.” Thranduil answered quietly, and Elrond was silent.   
  
“You must at least pretend to keep it, for your people, for your family, for-“ Again Thranduil silenced him with a look.   
  
“I will be in the library if you need company.” Elrond told him after a moment’s silence and left.  
  
Thranduil never went to find him, nor anyone else. He spent the rest of his night in front of that window, until he had consumed enough wine to make him fall asleep in a chair only a few hours before morning.

  
The next day, after long hours of seeing subjects in the throne room, listening to and trying to solve problems, without Elarinya, Thranduil had finally had enough. He was slouching on his throne with his head propped on his hand, not caring if he did not look kingly and composed.  
  
“Is that all?” He snapped at an advisor, who came in after the last elf had left.   
  
“One more has requested your presence, but this is different.”   
  
Thranduil practically rolled his eyes and growled. “Hurry it, then.” He said sharply, but regretted it when Legolas walked in with Elrond behind him, hoping his son hadn’t heard him being rude.   
  
It appeared Legolas had not; he ran towards his father, who said up straight again and bent to pick up the elfling.   
  
“Ada.” The elfling said simply, starting to play with Thranduil’s hair.   
  
“Yes, Legolas?” Thranduil asked softly.

“Do you miss Naneth too?” Legolas asked him, his blue eyes turning to Thranduil’s.  
   
“Yes, I miss her.” Thranduil told him. “More than anything. Why do you ask?”   
  
“Are you sad?” Legolas asked as an answer.  
  
Thranduil smiled a little, realizing it was his first smile since Elarinya had left.   
  
“Yes, Legolas, I am.” Thranduil told him solemnly.   
  
“I don’t want you to be too sad.” The elfling told him, and threw his arms around his father’s neck.  
  
Thranduil felt tears in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, holding Legolas to him.   
  
“Oh, ion nin. I could never be too sad as long as my world still contains you.” He whispered, his voice thick.  
  
Legolas hugged him tighter, and Thranduil looked up at Elrond still in the back of the throne room and smiled again. He guessed the half-elf had pushed Legolas to come see him, and he had been right. This was what Thranduil needed. He nodded his thanks at Elrond, who returned his smile and disappeared.   
  
“Legolas, what do you say we go eat dinner and take a walk in the forest, does that sound good?”   
  
“Yes!” Legolas beamed excitedly, sliding down off the throne and taking his father’s hand to lead him away.   
  
He was so like Elarinya, Thranduil thought. A single smile of his could melt anyone’s heart, no matter how hard they had shut it. He was Thranduil’s biggest piece left of her, and Thranduil would not let Legolas suffer for his own pain, not at any cost.  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
 ~~ _(I actually really like the idea of a “sleeping beauty” type story with them. I think what went wrong is she never made it quite to Valinor but she made it somewhere, and the healers with her managed to put her in a deep sleep to protect her, and so she’d recover slowly, and when Thranduil finally sailed (I like to believe he sailed about when Legolas did. Maybe not on Legolas’s ship, but within the same half decade or so) he found out about it immediately and true love’s kiss woke her up, all that. But I’m not sure if that’s my headcanon or just an crazy idea I like)_~~


	29. Galadriel and Celeborn

### Something about secrets

Galadriel and Celeborn- the secret the Noldor kept from…everyone, about the Kinslaying.

Artanis/Galadriel told no one about the Oaths of the sons of Feanor or the Kinslayingnot even her new husband. Celeborn knew something was missing from the story she did tell him, as whenever they mentioned the subject of the Noldor and the Valar or of her uncle and cousins, Galadriel grew strangely quiet, as did her brothers. However, he never guessed it was anything quite so terrifying and horrible as the truth.   
When the news is finally told to Thingol by Galadriel’s brother, and the rest of the court finds out, Celeborn is confused and hurt that Galadriel would keep something so important from him.  
  
I think surely Galadriel and Celeborn had heated arguments fairly frequently, especially in the First Age, (then their arguments were more subtle, or they just knew each other well enough they didn’t need to really argue, they were together a  _long_ time,) but when they were done yelling at each other they would probably make up within the hour. ~~(Passionately, if no one else was around.)~~

 ____________________________

“Why would you keep this?”   
  
Galadriel gave no answer as she watched him. He had a right to be hurt, but she had never seen Celeborn even close to this angry before, not ever.  
   
“I have told you everything, everything!” He nearly shouted.   
  
“You knew that I was not telling you everything.” For the more his voice rose, hers grew quieter, though not weaker.  
  
“But this!”  
  
“We could not tell your King, how was it my place to tell you?” She told him, the best explanation of her actions she could give at the moment.  
  
“I am not your King; I am your  _husband._ Or does that mean nothing to you, Artanis?”   
  
She stepped back, shocked. More than the question, the name to her was like a slap in the face. How deep did his anger have to be for him to disuse his given name for her, given on the night they had professed their love for each other? He had used no other since.

“I think that we should not discuss this any longer.” Galadriel said, hardly above a whisper, and she backed from the room, turning quickly when she reached the door. Celeborn made no move to stop her.   
  
Galadriel hurried through the long twisting halls, not entirely sure where to, her thoughts reeling. Though she was successfully holding back her tears, she was glad she met no one on her way. It was late; most should be asleep at this time, even tonight. She didn’t want to go to any of her brothers, not tonight.  
  
  
She found herself at Melian’s chambers, and knocked on the door of her mentor’s study, on the chance the Queen was there.   
After the news given today it was possible she was still awake. To her surprise Melian did open the door and looked even more surprised to see her there, but she assessed the situation quickly enough and guessed the reason.   
  
“You and Celeborn had a fight?”   
  
Galadriel could only nod, and Melian sympathetically pulled her into a warm embrace.   
  
“I am sorry to distract you, I know you are busy…. I hate crying.” Galadriel managed when she felt tears building up.   
  
“Tears are not weak, Galadriel, not any more than the emotions that cause them. Everything will be all right.” She soothed gently. “Come, you may stay here or in one of the guest chambers for tonight, but I regret I must leave you and find the King.”   
Melian led her down the hall to a comfortable chamber not far from her and Thingol’s own.

“I will return if I am able. In the meantime my maids will get you anything you need, and try to get some sleep, all right?”   
  
Galadriel nodded a “thank you” and watched Melian leave before sinking into the bed, still fully clothed, trying to decide if she felt more angry or guilty, until she fell asleep, deciding on guilt.

Celeborn was trying to think or read in various places around his chambers. The couch, the window seat, at the table, the bed, he could not sit still anywhere, and he could not decide if it was anger or worry or guilt that made it so.   
Eventually he decided to go find his wife, and with the help of questioning one of Melian’s servants, learned where she was.   
  
She did not answer his soft knock on the door, and he hoped it was because she was asleep, not angry or upset.   
  
It was mostly guilt that made him restless, he realized with a pang. Though he was hurt and felt justified in his anger, he should never have said what he did.   
He had called her Artanis again…what must she have thought?  
  
Celeborn sank to the ground against the wall a few feet down from her door and buried his face in his hands. He had no idea how long he sat like that.

“Celeborn.” Melian’s stern voice startled him some time later, and she did not sound particularly pleased to see him here, though he noticed there was sympathy in her eyes, too. “Does she know you are here?”   
  
Celeborn shook his head silently, and stood.   
  
“Then you should not be.” Her eyebrows rose.   
  
“Why did she not tell me?” Celeborn asked, though he did not truly think Melian would shed much light on the subject.   
  
“You must ask her.” She answered.   
  
“Can I trust her?” Celeborn heard the anguish in his voice, the confusion, and Melian’s expression softened.  
  
“ _Do_  you trust her?” She questioned instead.   
  
“With my life.” He answered surely. “But should I?”   
  
“With your life.” Melian told him with a hint of a smile. “Celeborn, she does not share the deceit or malice of the Sons of Feänor. If anyone knows that it should be you.”   
  
He looked up sharply, apologetically, before she continued.  
  
“Galadriel would do anything for you. She would give her life to protect you; you are her husband. More than that, she loves you; truly, deeply and fully, and she would never do anything that would hurt you. Nor would she neglect to do anything that she thought would really hurt you by not doing.”   
  
“Then why…”   
  
“That you must ask her. It is not my place to say.” Melian told him. “But leave it until tomorrow, it is not a matter for this night.”   
  
Celeborn reluctantly nodded in agreement, and Melian made to leave.  
  
“And, Celeborn?” She paused, and made sure he had made eye contact before she continued. “When you do ask her you must listen, do not be angry prematurely and do not assume, as you have been doing.”   
  
“I will.” He promised, and she gave him a true smile.  
  
“Good night, Celeborn.” She squeezed his shoulder gently on her way past him to her own chambers. 

 

The sun was well risen by the time Galadriel woke in the morning, and Melian had not returned. Or, if she had she had not woken Galadriel, in any case.   
  
A quick glance in the mirror showed her she looked almost as disheveled as she felt. Her dress was wrinkled from sleeping in it, her eyes were dull from crying and her face puffy, even her hair was duller and messier than usual. Without sparing the time to fix any of this though, she decided she should return to her own chambers and find Celeborn, knowing she would not be able to do anything else first.   
When she entered the hall outside, though, she found Celeborn waiting for her.  
  
When she saw him she froze, and his eyes searched her face worriedly. Galadriel could tell he had not slept much if at all, as his eyes were grayer and less bright than usual. She did not look into his eyes, though, and relied on her mind to sense his mood.  She could feel the hurt there now that his anger had faded, and felt a strong pang of her own guilt. Then she noticed that she felt the same sentiment mirrored in him.  
  
“Galadriel…” He started, and she finally looked up at him.

When her eyes met his she saw only worry there, none of the anger of before, and she knew she was forgiven.   
  
“I am sorry.” Celeborn’s voice was hardly above a whisper. “You do not have to tell me anything, I will not ask ever again if you wish me not to. I trust you, Galadriel. I love you.”   
  
“I love you too.” She crossed the distance between them in one stride and embraced him, crushing him to her. “And I will tell you everything, the full story. I wanted to move on, to forget what had been done and enjoy Middle-earth for as long as I could. I see now that I cannot, I cannot move on to that joy here until the past is dealt with. I also did not tell you because I told myself it was not my place, and that is mostly true. But I convinced myself that I only did not tell you because I could not, when I also was afraid of what you would think if you knew what my kin had done. What part I had played.”   
  
“You did nothing wrong, Galadriel. And if you had done the deeds of Feänor himself, it would make no difference to me.” Celeborn kissed her brow, and she smiled at him.   
  
“I love you.” She told him again.   
  
“And I you.” He answered simply.   
  
“Come, let us take breakfast in our chambers.” She spoke after a moment. “It is a long tale I do not wish to tell in the company of others.”   
  
Galadriel took his hand in hers and together they walked, silver and gold, perfectly in sync once more.


	30. Galadriel

### Something about regrets

 **Galadriel.** Wishing she had done more.  
  
I think Galadriel, while she appreciated where her choices led her and wouldn’t  _really_ have done much more if she could go back, always wished she had been able to save everyone else; all of her brothers, Celebrian, etc.   
  


(I  _swear_ there was a mention of someone clad in Doriath cloaks that blended in or shielded sight or something to that extent in the Silmarillion, but I can’t find it now so I may be crazy. But there’s no reason this  _couldn’t_ have happened, and I keep imagining that Melian basically taught Galadriel everything, though I’m sure Galadriel came already knowing plenty that the Valar had taught her, and that she was pretty powerful herself too.)  
  
_____________________________________________________  
 **prequel:**  
Artanis had to work hard to contain her excitement while she waited for Melian to answer the door and let her in.   
  
Melian had just offered to start teaching her, and her last two lessons had been full of stories of the Valar in the early days of the creation of Middle-earth, and of practicing mind powers Artanis had never imagined she could wield.   
  
At first Artanis had been apprehensive about being under the tutelage of Melian. She had come to Middle-earth to get away from the Valar, to learn from experience and not their limited teaching, only showing her “what they saw fit” when she knew she was capable of so much more. But Melian had been different.   
  
While Artanis suspected there was plenty Melian was holding back on, she didn’t have the air of distance and superiority the Valar over the sea did, and she was willing to teach Artanis plenty worth learning. She couldn’t wait to continue with lessons and see what they would be doing today.   
  
  
When Melian finally opened the door she stood back and ushered Artanis in, and she strode in eagerly, looking around.   
  
The excitement in her froze, however, when she saw all the cloth and needles in the room covering Melian’s working desks, and she frowned.   
  
Melian laughed at her expression.   
  
“Today we will be weaving garments.” Melian told her.   
  
Artanis gave her a disdainful look, but feared to complain and held her tongue. Melian gave a nod, though, and she burst out:  
  
“But that is just simple women’s work! Anyone can weave garments, it is a simple task!”   
  
“Then you have not been doing it right.” Melian raised an eyebrow, not unkindly. “Your first lesson today is this: swords and armour are not the only ways to defend one’s self or to give aid in a mission.”   
“Wait and see, sit.” She added when Artanis did not look convinced.  
  
She sat waited for Melian to begin.   
  
“First, as you do not believe this is worth your time,” Melian’s eyes twinkled. “I will show you how they work.”  
  
She took a bunch of the cloth, an unappealing greenish grey, draped it over her shoulders, going to stand by the wood paneled wall.   
  
“It doesn’t work as well in here, but well enough for you to see. Out in the forest or in a field it should work entirely.”   
  
She stood holding the fabric behind her and facing the oak paneled wall, and smiled when she heard Artanis’s quick intake of breath, for Melian had almost completely disappeared, the fabric blending to the wood.  
  
“It takes on the colors of the natural world, of trees, of grasses, of sunlight, of moonlight, whatever you may pour into it. It will work against this wood, but much more so against living things, and the wearer can be nearly completely masked from unwanted eyes under it.”  
  
“How?” Artanis asked, fascinated now, and hoping Melian forgave her earlier protest.   
  
“That is what you are to learn.” She said with a smile, coming to sit across from Artantis.   
  
Melian showed her how to pour thought and power into the cloth as it was woven, and she was thrilled to find she was able to master it quickly, the first one she made was nearly as good as Melian’s, and Melian was pleased with her work.

 **Headcanon:**  
It was with a sad smile that Galadriel watched the Fellowship head around the bend in the river. They did not have the slightest idea how long and hard the road ahead of them was, not even Aragorn or Legolas. The hobbits did not seem to have the slightest clue, even Frodo, though perhaps that was better for them, not to know the horrors that may lie ahead.   
  
Lórien had provided what it could, a place for rest and healing, food, supplies, and as best counsel as could be given.   
  
The elven cloaks they wore, woven by herself and those she had taught to make them, the skill passed on to her so very long ago from Melian the Maia.   
  
She found herself thinking what Melian might do now, in her situation. Probably exactly what Galadriel and Celeborn had done; sheltered the Fellowship through their grief in the loss of Mithrandir, given gifts of as much aid as possible, and sent them on their way.   
  
But for Galadriel, it was always hard not to do more.   
  
She had learned at an early age from her father, and later from Melian, not to rashly go off into fighting battles she had no place in, especially not against powers like Sauron, who was already watching her as closely as he could be.   
  
She knew they were right, as she had seen such situations take many of her kin, as well as friends and allies, for the past three ages.   
  
However, sometimes she felt guilty for not being of as much help as she could be, even if that were to claim her own life. She knew in her heart the right answer was that she was more use to everyone alive than in Mandos for who knows how long, but still, there had always been that choice.   
  
Her father and Melian both had always counseled her to take care not to take unnecessary risks based on her emotions, and seeing what happened to her brothers and the rest of those who did not heed Melian’s advice, Galadriel had always listened.   
  
She might not have, had she not seen nearly every one of her kin lose their lives in their rashness during the First Age; Fëanor and his sons for their Oath. Finrod for a good cause, but because he, too, made a promise. Orodreth and Turgon both would have done well to listen to the advice of the Valar to prevent their deaths, so even if Melian’s advice to her had been given long ago, she knew it still applied.  _Do not be rash, stay out of matters you would not be of true help in, no matter what you wish you could do. Do not let your pride rule your heart or your actions._  
And so she hadn’t.  
  
During the Second Age and the battles against Sauron, it had been difficult. Celeborn had fought, and though she was just as skilled with the sword as any other elf in Middle-earth, Galadriel had only really fought in one small battle during that time, when Celeborn’s forces along with Elrond ‘s forces had been attacked by Sauron, and Galadriel had helped lead an army of Elves and Dwarves to weaken Saurons forces.  
  
During the Third Age she may have faced Sauron at Dol Gudur, but in his weakened form it was relatively less danger than most situations she wished to charge in to, sword ready. Besides, Songs of Power were a vastly different form of fighting than swords.   
  
Since, most of what she had done was give counsel. Protect her family, her people. Organize the White Council, strategize with Mithrandir and Elrond, thwart Sauron in more subtle ways, and defend Lórien.   
  
Elrond said often that the time of the elves was coming to a close, and he was right. Now all she could do was advise, give gifts, and hope that the strength of Men and Hobbits was enough to purge the world of it’s greatest evil left.  
  
Galadriel knew she had made the right choices, the right actions. But she still wished she had done more, could do more. She only hoped what she had done had been enough.


	31. Yavanna and Melian

### Something you want to say that there wasn’t a space for

Theories I have with basically no canon background

  * Yavanna went occasionally to visit Melian in Middle-earth


  * _Crack Theories that I probably don’t believe but really like:_


  * What if  _Morgorth_ was the one who set the powerful doom on Beren, allowing him to pass through Melian’s Girdle, eventually causing the fall of Doriath?


  * Like that one post going around proposed, Gil-Galad was TOTALLY lost little Elúred or Elúrin and the Noldor just found him and argued over who he belonged to.



 

  
I mean, presumably it was Eru who held the doom over Beren, the doom that was more powerful than Melian’s power, that caused him to get through the Girdle, but  _what if it was Morgoth._  
  
He hated Doriath but he really had no way of attacking it and didn’t need to. So what if he sort of gave them the Silmaril on purpose, because he knew then the Sons of Feanor would destroy Doriath for him?   
  
When Beren gets to Menegroth and talks to Thingol, he has that moment where he’s unable to say anything and then he looks into Melian’s eyes and begins to speak, as if the words were given to him (I assume it was by Melian but:) perhaps it was Morgoth giving him those words, trying to set into motion angering Thingol into sending him for a Silmaril. 

_anywayy, fic for my first one:_   
  


**FA: Year of the Trees: 4680**

Melian awoke suddenly, hearing the voice of Yavanna singing and wondering why it had been in her dreams. Then, when she awoke she still heard it, and realized it was not a dream.   
  
 _“Yavanna?”_ She called out, silently.  
  
 _“Melyanna! Where are you?”  
  
_ Glancing at Elwë still deep asleep beside her, she silently rose and headed through the forest, finding her quickly.  
  
 _“Are you well?”_ Yavanna asked, beaming a smile at her when she saw her.   
  
 _“Very. Better than I have ever been.”_ Melian answered, joining her as she wandered through the wood. It was odd and nice to be significantly shorter than someone, again. In this form she was taller than most all the elves in Middle-earth.  _“How are you? How is life over the sea?”  
  
“As well as ever, I suppose. The Children there are learning much.”   
  
“I imagine.” _Melian nodded.  _”Those here, as well. I love it here, though it is strange for me, living entirely among Children of Ilúvatar. I miss Lórien at times.”  
  
“Never mind living among them, being married to one?” _Yavanna raised an eyebrow.   
  
 _“That is not so strange.”_ Melian laughed softly.  _“Though I imagine it seems it to you. Elwë is different. Or, he is now, anyway. But I am now, too.”  
  
“What do you see in a Child of Ilúvatar? From what we hear, he is very proud…”   
  
“And the Ainur are not?” _Melian countered.  _“Yes, he is proud. But he is kind and caring, and he is wise. Ambitious. Passionate. He loves his people with fierceness and a closeness the Ainur rarely have, too.”  
  
“Well, you do look happy, I am glad for you! And your forests here are beautiful, truly.”   
  
“I thought you would like them, if you ever saw them.” _Melian grinned.  _“Do you come to Middle-earth often?”  
  
“Hardly, not at all since you have been here, as nearly everything is asleep.” _She looked sad and far away.  _“I feel that may change not too long from now, do you?”  
  
“Perhaps. I have not been looking that far ahead at the rest of events, these days I suppose I am more focused on Elwë’s people.”   
  
“Again, a strange thing for a Maia.” _Yavanna laughed.   
  
 _“I do miss living among the Ainur,”_ Melian shrugged,  _“but I love it here, too. You all do not feel as far away to me as you really are, I suppose._

 _“We all miss your songs.”  
  
“I will sing them there again, one day, I am sure.” _Melian told her.  _“But that may be quite some time from now. Doriath is my home, now.”  
  
“That it is. But Middle-earth is so dim, do you not miss the light of the Trees?”   
  
“Of course I do. We have Varda’s stars, and they are light enough. How is Aulë?” _She asked, to change the subject.  
  
 _“Oh, he is fine.”_ Yavanna told her distantly.   
  
 _“At odds again?”_ Melian laughed.  _“Are you ever not?”  
  
“There are times when we are not!” _Yavanna said seriously.   
  
 _“What happened this time?”  
  
“He made a passing comment in my presence, to Manwë, that his dwarves were more important to events than my Ents.” _Her eyes flashed angrily, and Melian tried not to show her amusement.   
  
 _“How long ago?”  
  
“Good point. It was over seven years ago, perhaps I should go see him when I get back.”   
  
“Perhaps.” _Melian raised an eyebrow.   
  
 _“Do you and Elwë not argue?”  
  
“Rarely. And no one argues like you and Aulë.”  
  
“No.” _Yavanna laughed again.  _“Not like us.”  
  
_ Suddenly Yavanna stopped and stared straight ahead through the trees ahead of them. _  
_  
“Ents _.”_ She said out loud, in surprise. _“You brought some here. “  
  
_ Unable to read whether Yavanna was pleased or not, Melian was unsure how to answer. _“Yes. Besides, the dwarves had awoken and were traveling; it was only fair the grey-elves began befriending the Ents…”  
  
“Wonderful.” _Yavanna beamed and hurried forward to watch them. _“Oh, they are wonderful!”  
  
“Indeed.” _Melian smiled. And useful.   
  
Yavanna watched them joyfully for a long time, not revealing herself.   
  
  
 _“I should get back to Elwë.”_ Melian told her when hours had passed and the elves would be awakening soon.   
  
 _“Yes, I suppose I should be going as well.”_ Yavanna turned from the Ents, with effort.

 _“You could come meet Elwë, if you wished.”_ Melian offered, though she knew Yavanna wouldn’t.  
  
 _“No.”_ She smiled.  _“I should go. I doubt I will return here for many years, but I had to see you this time.”  
  
“I know. I am glad you came, I have missed you!”   
  
“You too.” _Yavanna embraced her for a long while.  _“Until we meet again. Farewell, Melyanna!”_  
  
“Farewell.” Melian answered, watching Yavanna disappear before heading back to Elwë.


End file.
